Defining Justice
by Solkongen
Summary: Light's plan worked, and now he's the God of the new world. But suddenly it seems that not everybody loves Kira like he thinks, and once again Light is in battle with an unknown enemy in a world where everyone could be a traitor... Rated T to be safe.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own "Death Note". The first 17 lines of this story are simply the first minute of "Death Note – Episode 37 – New World", which I have written in this FanFiction with my own words, although the remarks and dialogs are taken out of the episode. After these 17 lines, it is all my imagination. I do not reserve any rights for myself regarding the first 17 lines.

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the whole lawyer-speech, I just can't afford do get sued :-). This is my first fanfic ever, so please bare with me, I have done it as well as I could. Please review, I'm very excited to hear what you all think.

"_How many seconds has it been since you wrote down the first name?" Light asked the man in the doorway of the warehouse. The light from the world outside was a strange contrast to the man's black appearance. The stranger turned his eyes down to his wristwatch, expectantly and eagerly looking in a childish way. His coat was flapping rapidly around his athletic body. His shoulder long hair flatter then it used to be in the strong wind. He usually wore glasses. _

"_Thirty-five," the intruder answered slowly, focusing his entire attention on the watch. The Japanese Task Force and the SPK members all looked at him, some terrified, others insecure in what to do, only Near and Light did not seem to be affected by the count. _

"_Thirty-six." The intruders voice grew steadily, more and more eager with every second he counted, until he was yelling all over the Yellow Box. _

"_Thirty-eight. Thirty-nine!"_

_Near looked at Light expressionlessly. Light turned his eyes to meet Nears with a smile of twisted joy growing slowly across his face. _

"_Well, Near, looks like I win," he said lowly._

_"__FORTY!"_

_The sun broke through the clouds. It fell into the warehouse and colored the suits of the people inside._

Then it happened. Rester clutched his chest and made a last, desperate rattle of death. Then his eyeballs rolled and turned white before he collapsed on the floor. Dead.

They only had time to turn their heads to look at him, before Matsuda gasped and fell as well. Then Lidner, Aizawa, Ide and Gevanni. Now it was only Near, Light and the black stranger in the Yellow Box.

Near stared at Light. Then he got it. His black eyes slowly widened in fear as he realized that he had lost.

"You have done very well, Mikami," Light said, not taking his eyes off the white haired boy. The smile grew wider.

"God," Mikami whispered, falling to his knees, his face obscured in gratitude and tears of happiness trickling down his cheeks. "Thank you, God."

Nears mouth fell open.

Light couldn't hold it in any longer. This was priceless. The first giggle escaped his lips. It was low, suppressed, following in the tail of his breaths. He couldn't stop, this was too amusing. The giggles grew and grew with every second. He was like a bottle of water someone was holding horizontally, jerking it irregularly, with every jerk water would sprout from it. Never in his life had he felt so happy. He had won. He had won again. Then the bottle was turned upside-down, all the water pouring out of it. He leaned backwards, staring up the ceiling, laughing uncontrollably towards the sky.

Then he finally stopped, slowly the insane noises faded away and was replaced by deep breaths.

Light once again turned his head to look at Near, smiling broadly. "Are you scared… Near?"

The boy didn't answer. But it didn't matter to Light. His expression was enough.

"You're just a stupid little kid," Light said, straightening his back. "Stupid and naive."

Slowly he walked across the room, bowed down, and picked up the Death Note which Aizawa had carried.

"Come, Mikami." The little light there was in the warehouse flickered wickedly in Lights eyes.

"Yes, God." The black haired man began crawling on his knees to Light.

"Give me your Death Note."

Mikami lifted his hands up to God, who took the notebook, his very own Death Note.

Light smiled. "I will provide you with the pages you need." Mikami was nothing but a slave. A slave willing to sacrifice everything for his master, perhaps, but nothing more than a slave. And Light did not trust mere slaves.

"God," Mikami breathed, looking worshipfully up at Light.

"Mikami, I need to you to tell me," Light said, opening Aizawas Death Note, stuffing the other in under his jacket.

Mikami lifted his head expectantly.

"What is the name of this boy?" He nodded down at Near, who was paralyzed with fear. His jaw trembled.

"Nate River, God."

Light nodded. Then he drew a pen out of his pocket and set it to the paper. _Nate River_.

Something snapped inside Near. Whatever little dignity he had left vanished with blow. He screamed and staggered to his feet, turning his back on Light and Mikami, running panicky towards the exit. His black eyes wide with fear.

Mikami made a movement to catch the boy, but Light held up his hand to stop him. "Let him go, Mikami."

The man fell onto the floor. The pen of God was scratching soothingly over the page of the Death Note.

_Nate River. Traffic accident. Returns to the warehouse known as the Yellow Box from which he fled, setting fire to everything in there, including the six corpses, so that they can never be identified. Then runs in blind panic to the nearest high way and gets hit by the first car to arrive. Dies instantly. _

_ "Death Note – Episode 37 – New World". _

**Author's Note:** As said above, please review because this is my first fanfic ever - all criticism will be well received! And also, please forgive grammar mistakes and misspelling - again, I have have done it as well as I could.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own "Death Note".

Light looked into the mirror. Watched his own reflection for a couple of seconds. Straightened his neck a little bit, and pulled the razor down his right cheek, drawing a flesh colored trail where there used to be white foam. Then he lifted the handle of the sink and rinsed the razor blade. He lifted the blade once again and drew another clean line right next to the first one. It was a perfect line. He was perfect. He was God. And gods were perfect.

The bathroom was almost completely white – white, square tiles, a square sink over a square table. White towels. Blurry, square glass walls around the shower. And a vase of orchids on the table, its green stilk the only thing to break the whiteness of the bathroom.

Although, he must admit, it was kind of boring. No, not kind of – it _was_ boring. There were no obstacles anymore, he had reached his goal, he was god, the world was perfect, there were almost no criminals left in it. It had been entertaining with L and Near. He had had someone to fight against, someone was making everything worth doing. It was no fun anymore.

Suddenly pain shut through his face. He gasped unwillingly. Lost in thought, he had not paid attention to the razor blade. This was bad. He had never done it before. He was being careless. It was a small, round wound on the right cheek. No, more like a scratch. A little drop of blood trickled down his cheek and mixed with the foam. Red and white. He was not perfect anymore. The scratch had spoiled his image.

He cursed. He usually didn't curse. It didn't sound well. That too spoiled his image.

Then he bend down over the sink and smacked some water into his face. He grabbed the white towel and drew off the water. A little blood stained the towel. How odd. It had been many years since he had seen his own blood.

Light threw the towel onto the table and reached out for the toilet paper. He must not be seen like this. It would be embarrassing. He tore off a piece of the roll and cleansed the remaining blood off his cheek. It was not very much. The wound was almost invisible now. But was it good enough? He was God. God could not afford to look sloppy. God must look perfect. Should he stay indoors until the wound was healed? No, he could not do that to his people. Would it not be even worse than sloppiness to let down his people? They trusted him. He could not fail their trust. Even if he had to look sloppy.

Light once again looked at his own reflection. It had been three years since he had killed Near. He hadn't changed his appearance. God never changed his looks. The auburn hair was still hanging down his forehead. He was naked except for a white, fluffy towel. He had just taken a shower.

He dropped the towel and reached out for the clothes on lying in a neat pile next to the orchids. It was a black suit. A completely black suit, slightly lighter shirt, white tie. He always wore the same suits. It was all made out of silk, and slithered lightly over his skin as he put it on.

Light smiled at himself in the mirror as he brushed invisible dust off his shoulders.

The scratch did not matter. How could anyone notice a single fault in all of this… perfection?

Mikami was walking behind God. Their shiny, black shoes silently slithered over the marble floor. The palace of God was almost entirely in marble. It was build in a kind of old style you would connect to the late 1700-hundreds. The walls around them in the enormous hall where God had his throne were of white marble, the floor white and brown in a marvelous check pattern. On the walls were pictures of angels and saints. God had designed it himself. Most of his palace looked like this. It was amazing what God could build in only three years.

God was on his way to his balcony to greet his people. He did this every morning at exactly 10 a.m. after breakfast. God never woke up late in the morning. No proper people did that. Mikami loved God.

Mikami had noticed something different about God this day. God always looked the same. Mikami dressed almost completely like God, the way God had told him to, he wore a black suit, black shirt and tie. Only Gods tie was white.

But today, God was different. His face was different. It was wounded. It was a small, round wound on the right cheek, hardly noticeable, actually more like a little scratch. If Mikami did not know any better, he would have guessed it to be an accident of shaving. But God never had accidents. God was perfect. So Mikami did not ask. God had his reasons.

The great doors to the balcony were opened by men in black clothes and sunglasses. They bowed deeply to God as he walked past them with a silent nod. Then he smiled. Mikami noticed that he always did so when greeting his people.

The bright sunlight of May nearly blinded Mikami and reflected in his glasses as God walked out onto the balcony, and Mikami stayed invisible just inside. Immediately deafening cheers erupted from the gigantic crowd on the ground.

A joyful smile broke through the dissembled mask on Lights face. He simply could not help it. In the beginning he had to tried hard not to burst out laughing, because the cheering crowd reminded him of his victory over L and over Near once again. But it had gotten easier. Now he just smiled.

There were fathers with children on their shoulders.

Screaming teenage girls. Light chuckled almost silently at this. Screaming teenage girls. How amusing.

And there were women who begged him to bless their babies.

Schools on field trips.

Elderly people who were just waving flags. Yes, that was another thing. The flag. He had thought it unnecessary for each country to have its own flag, flags would only separate the nations and start unfriendliness. There were nothing he would like less. So he had created an entirely new one. It was white with a red cross vertically printed over it.

Light lifted his arms to greet his worshipers, immediately the cheering stopped, and they all fell to their knees before him. There must have have been millions. Behind him he heard Mikami and the to guards kneeling as well.

Light's balcony was of sandy marble, beautifully and simply decorated with two angels on each side. Right below the balcony was a statue of himself in gray stone. He liked the statue. His statue self wore long, coat like robes, like those angels bore, flapping gently around him in a soft breeze that had long since died out. His arms were spread in an embracing gesture, a kind smile on his face. The Saviour. Kira the Saviour. Light the Saviour. Light Yagami.

"Arise, my children," he shouted, not very loudly, he should not overwork his voice, but nonetheless everybody heard him, for all were quiet. They stood up.

Light was just about to bless them like he used to do, but then something odd happened. A sharp pain cut his face in half, coming from the left cheek. It burned, and he let out a noise of agony he later was ashamed of, and as his hand reached the small cut he staggered backwards. He felt blood trickling innocently down his fingers. Suddenly Light realized what was going on.

Then someone glided in front of him, like a man-shaped shadow covering the sun.

Mikami arose from his kneeling position on the floor as God told had him to. He folded his hands and bowed his head to receive the blessing like he did every morning.

Then something happened. Mikami's eye caught a little, black silhouette sitting on the roof of the smaller castle next to Gods palace, Mikami's own home. The silhouette was holding what looked like a long stick or… a rifle. A sniper.

Mikami's jaw dropped, he did not understand how…

Something small and black, barely visible, pierced the air like a lightning of coal. Then a gasp of pain sounded from the balcony. God was stumping a few steps back, then standing there in a sort of crippled way, his bloody hand on his left cheek…

Mikami gasped, and before he could think, before he even knew what he was doing, he had stepped onto the balcony and taken the one step to stand in front of God. He spread out his arms to protect his master.

It was not a moment to soon. As though all the air was beaten out of Mikami's slim body in a single blow he doubled up. Like a fire sent from Hell itself had been smacked into his stomach, it burned, it screamed, it sprouted agony. His hands shut down to the wound and blood colored his hands, staining the beautiful creation of God that was the balcony. Mikami fell to his knees, almost paralyzed with shock and pain.

"God…" he called in a whisper. His vision was growing black, the edges were blurry, he could not see, sounds around him melted and became one swirling mass he could not decipher. "God!"

Then everything was black.

Light had understood the situation the moment the bullet smacked into the railing after painfully grazing his cheek, making a cracking, round hole in the shiny stone. He was being shut at. The people in the place did not understand what was going on, the sniper had been completely quiet, a silencer on the weapon, all they could see was their God, clucthing his cheek, one of the black suited assistants standing in front of him.

Then Mikami suddenly fell to his knees, collapsing, his white hand with desperate tightness gripping his stomach, from which blood were showering the balcony, soaking the fine suit, while he called out for Light.

Lights eyes quickly moved to the most likely place for the sniper to be, the roof of Mikami's castle – and sure enough a little, black figure was sitting there, holding what Light assumed to be a rifle.

"On the roof!" Light shouted to the men behind the doors as he slung himself through the opening into safety.

The men lifted their walkie-talkies and said a few words, before they raced outside, grapping Mikami and pulling him in. His unconsciens body drew a trace of red behind it.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own "Death Note"

Light couldn't help feeling disgusted. He frowned slightly.

The room very clean. They were standing on shiny, white linoleum, polished so intensively you could see your own reflection. The walls had a fragile, light blue color, grayish, five empty beds guarding the walls. Venetian blinds in a sickly sharp sort of white covered the windows at the very back of the room. Bright lamps over each bed brought with it a pointy, accurate light. A smell of medicine, scent-less cleaning products, sickness and death hung quietly in room, undisturbed like a rotting glass of water.

Mikami's bed was farthest away from the door. His pale chest was naked, rising irregularly up and down, a blueish blanket covering everything from it and downwards. You could just see the tops of his bandages. His black hair peacefully spread over the white pillow. The face was paler than it used to be, covered in icy sweat, grimacing pathetically in nightmares. An oxygen mask strapped around his head, helping him with the shallow actions that was his breathing.

It was absolutely _disgusting_.

"Arise," Light said distractedly to the kneeling doctor and the two nurses.

He began marching down the rows of beds and so did his four bodyguards. He was not going anywhere without them now. The doctor followed humbly in his tail.

This was his very own, private hospital. It was not very big, but complete with the best operation facilities known to man, the best of the doctors, the best of equipment, of everything. Just in case.

They stopped at Mikami's bed. Light sat on the chair next to it.

"Is he going to live?" Light asked expressionlessly, examining the sickly face.

"Yes, Lord," the doctor answered squeakily. "He was very lucky. The bullet didn't hit anything major or vital, nor any arteries."

"I'm glad. You'll be rewarded," Light said. The doctor bowed his head in gratitude.

Then suddenly Mikami opened his eyes. For a moment, Light saw them bright red. Then they were black once more.This reminded him of the reason he was keeping Mikami alive – the man knew his real name, as the only person still alive, Light had made sure, therefor dangerous. The public only knew Light as Kira. But Light needed Mikami's Eyes.

The doctor made a movement towards Mikami, but Light stopped him with a gesture of his hand.

Mikami's stare was fixed upon Lights eyes.

"Mikami, can you hear me?" The eyes of God were covered by his light brown hair.

"Yes…" Mikamis whispering was hoarse, "… God…"

"You've done well."

"I… I'm sorry… God…."

"Sorry?"

"Yes… You should… punish me…"

"What for?" Lights eyebrows knitted. The doctor was looking pleadingly at Light.

"I have failed you… God…" His gaze turned to the newly stitched cut on Lights cheek. "I'm so… so sorry, God… Please… forgive me…"

"I forgive you," Light said. Something that could have been a smile flinched across Mikami's face, but Light could not be sure. Then, as though on magic words, Mikami's eyes rolled and he passed out.

Light circled around the man's chair like a lion around its prey. The room was completely dark except for a bright lamp, blinding the man in the chair. He was hanging in the position in which he sat, if it had not been for the ropes he would have fallen. A noticeable bruise decorated his right temple.

Light could see the bodyguards, four of them. They were here if the prisoner got violent, but it didn't sooth Light. The fact that the man was tied to his chair was somewhat more soothing, but still, he was a little insecure. Normally, Light and the prisoner would be alone here with Mikami – Mikami with his Eyes and a page from the notebook. But now, Light had to take care of things by himself. He did not trust people. The closest he came to trusting someone was Mikami, mainly because Light knew he would give everything up for his God – his body, his soul, his life. But trusting? No.

"You've wounded my most faithful servant," Light said, stopping dead in front of the man. He had greasy, combed back yellow hair and several days old stubbles, brown eyes and a muscular body. Probably in the middle of his thirties. Right now his breathing was deep and calm, almost as if he was asleep.

"I don't approve of that," Light continued. "Nor do I approve that you've spilled not only his blood, but mine as well." His fingers touched his cheek.

"Well," the man said casually, with a strong, British accent, in the same jovial tone as if he was on a pub, "the more, the better, wouldn't yeh agree, me good lad?" He grinned. But his eyes were cold as ice and filled with hatred. Either he was really stupid, stupid beyond possibility, or he was smart, so brave he almost was ignorant, and obnoxious. Really obnoxious.

Light smiled coolly, but inside anger was and deep annoyance started to show themselves. _Lad. _He balled his fists_. _"What's your name?"

"Ooh, yeh don't want to give out yeh name is these dangerous times, do yeh, lad?"

"Actually, I find that the world's never been more peaceful." Lights voice was now freezing. He didn't like this man. He just seemed stupid. But Light knew that he wasn't. Not even close.

The other man leaned forwards towards Light, as though he was telling him a secret: "Yep, that's what it seem like, don't it? But the people are scared, I tell yeh, mate. If they just go one single step outta line, then _schwiiiish_!" If his hands had been free, the man would have run one of them over his throat significantly to the dramatic noise. "That Kira character, he thinks that everything's alright, that everyone's happy, but kiss me butt and call me Mary if they are. Something's stirring, I tell yeh, lad, something big. And not all the people think it's wrong, neither. Not everyone loves Kira like he thinks."

Anger was rushing through Lights very brain, chasing itself in the rhythm of his heartbeats. His hand shut through the thick air in the interrogation room, hitting the man in the face with a sickening smack, sending him sidewards and down on the ground with a thud.

"Why would you lie like that, huh?!" Light screamed to the man on the floor, who was blinking rapidly as though dazed, blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth. Then the sniper smiled.

"I tell yeh, lad, yeh sure are handyman with yeh fist," the yellow haired man said, spitting out blood.

Light thought that he was going to explode with anger. How could this man be so… so… so arrogant? So happy? Did he _wish_ to die? Light was still very much alive, and yet the man looked like he had been victorious. Unless… unless it wasn't Light he had aimed for. No. No, that very thought was absurd, who else could it have been? Well, no matter. He would be dead soon anyway.

Light ordered two of his bodyguards to raise up the man's chair. The sniper appeared to have given up getting away the blood. Now he just let it run down his chin. He was still smiling, though.

The younger, brown-haired man folded his hands peacefully behind his back, slowly approaching the chair once more.

"You," he said with the gentle voice of a snake, "why are you so happy?"

"Well, I guess it can't heard to tell yeh now that it's done. Yeh see, mate," the man lifted his head and blinked congenially, "that's because I've done what I came here to do."

Light gritted his teeth, annoyed, and his eyebrows knitted, but mostly he was just confused. "What do you mean? I'm still alive."

Sniper leaned his head backwards and roared hoarsely with laughter. Blood showering his face. Then he stopped, closed his eyes, and let his head fall back onto his chest before he said: "It wasn't yeh I came here to shoot, lad. Me boss told me how to do it. I lured him out by grazing yeh. It was the tall guy with the black hair. The one that's called Mikami."

First Light was stunned. So after all it had not been him who was to be shot. It was Mikami. But… that could not be. That was impossible. Why would anyone want to shoot Mikami instead of Light?

"Your boss?" Light turned his eyes wildly to Sniper. "Who is he?"

Sniper laughed once but he did not answer.

"Who is he?" Light yelled desperately. A boss? Would that mean this was not the work of a madman? A boss… Since they had a boss, there must be more of them. They must be organized. Organized in their blasphemous battle against good and justice – against Kira.

But then Light realized something. And he smiled. The smile grew to a broad grin, he giggled quietly, but nothing more than that. Now it was Snipers turn to look puzzled.

"You see," Light said, suppressing more giggles, "you have failed."

Sniper looked even more confused, the arrogant attitude completely worn off.

"Mikami," the younger man allowed himself to giggle for a second, "is still alive."

Snipers eyes widened in disbelief and fear. Light chuckled. He turned his back on Sniper and started laughing, not insanely like in the Yellow Box years before, but very close. He laughed and laughed. Then something cut across the stream of joyful noises.

"Yeh mean the Mikami I was to shoot?" Sniper lifted his head as Light turned, looking him in the eye. "That Mikami?"

Light didn't answer.

"The Mikami… with the Eyes?"

Kira's eyes widened. How… how… With the _Eyes_? That could only mean… But how? How could this maniac know? Clearly he was referring to the Eye-deal one could make with a Shinigami. Or else he was just saying, that Mikami had regular eyes? No, why would he say that? It could not just be to provoke Light, or yes it could, but it was not possible to make it a provocation unless he knew… And if he knew that much, he must know about the Death Note, the Shinigami… about how Light killed. It was a catastrophe. Light could not let him live any longer.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw one of the bodyguards knit his eyebrows at the words "with the Eyes". The bodyguards must die too, Light realized.

"You," he barked at one of the them, who flinched and then knelt, "give me your cell-phone."


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Disclaimer: I do not own "Death Note"

**Authors Note: **Thanks so much to everyone who follow the progress of this story. It really makes me happy that someone actually read what I write. Seriously. Again, please review, and tell me if you think something in this story is getting somewhere you find bad og ridiculous, or if there simply is something you don't like. I would really like to hear whatever you have to say.

Oops, and please note that something in my documents is screwed up, because I can't seem to figure out how to separate one unit form another. I'm deeply sorry. Just assume that when the "scene" or "narrator" changes (for example from a dungeon to a palace or from Mikami or Light all of a sudden) it's because there is a change of unit. Sorry for any inconvenience.

Also, even more thanks to the people who reviewed. You give me the courage to continue. (And here starts a new unit):

"Mikami!" Light said harshly as he marched alone down the rows of beds in the little hospital. He quickly came to a halt by Mikami's bed. "Mikami!"

The man was sleeping, but it looked like he already had a bit more color in his face than in the morning. Outside night was falling. "Mikami!"

Then the squeaky doctor hurried out of his office across the room when he heard the voice of God. As soon as he reached the bed he fell to his knees. "Lord…"

"Be quiet and get out!" Light barked. Then he stretched out his hand and gave the sleeping man a hard pat on the cheek, although not hard enough to be a slap in the face. Mikami opened his eyes immediately, looking wildly around the room as though waking from a nightmare, but the little color completely disappeared. Then he saw Light.

"God…"

"Yes, yes," Light said impatiently, taking out the cell-phone. He clicked it so the picture of Sniper came forth on the screen. "Who is this man?"

"Lord," the doctor lifted his head, "I really must insist…"

"I_ told _you to_ GET OUT_!" Light screamed. The doctor flinched, stood up, bowed quickly to Light before fleeing the room.

"So?" Light once more turned to Mikami. "Who is it?"

But everything seemed to be too hard on Mikami. His eyes were rolling, the eyelids quietly closing.

"No!" Light yelled. He could not let the sniper live any longer. If he told someone… He grabbed the glass of water on the bedside table, turning it upside down so all the liquid poured down upon the pale face of the black haired man. Mikami opened his eyes at the very instant, spluttering and coughing.

"WHO IS IT?!" Light howled, his hands trembling with anger and desperation.

Mikami looked up at him. "I… apologize…"

"No, just answer the _damn question_! _WHO – IS – HE?_!"

Mikami's eyes gleamed red for a moment. "Geor… George Clemens, God…" Then he passed out.

Light relievedly let the cell-phone sink. Then he stepped back while starting to smile again. He took a page of his Death Note, one he always kept in his inner-pocket. _George Clemens_. After that he wrote the names of his four bodyguards. In exactly two hours, they would all die in the same traffic accident.

Light massaged his temples with his fingertips. It had been a rough day compared to the ones he used to have these days. Normally he was not forced to kill.

In his bedroom with the square furniture was a gray sort of darkness hanging with a thick chill like wavy smoke. He did not care for the light right now. Rain was splattering his windows, every drop hitting the clean glass made him even more tired. His black jacket was thrown carelessly on the bed on which he sat, looking sad and lonely as though a murder had just taken place, and the police any minute would come and draw a line of chalk around it.

It was not until now he started realizing the true meaning of George Clemens's appearance. A sniper, talking about his boss telling him how to kill Mikami? But who was this boss? It was clear to Light that even under torture Clemens would not have given up anything. It was best if he just died right away. But still. A paranoid feeling had hung heavily around Light ever since he had killed the man. Were there more of them? There had to be, there was no other way. The question was where they were. Here in Tokyo? In the palace? Maybe even someone he saw every day. Someone he trusted was perhaps really trying to have him killed and to destroy everything he had struggled build. But no, because Light was not foolish enough to trust anyone. But of there actually _were_ an insider, clearly they would have come to Clemens's aid. So it seemed very unlikely a traitor was within his walls. He must double Mikami's bodyguards and triple his own. And there was no way not he could move without having them and his personal physician around all the time. In fact he could not even eat anything without having it tested first for poison. Oh, this was bad. He must clearly find this boss of Clemens's, but how? He had no other clues than the sniper saying there actually was such a person.

And as though that was not enough, he also had to find a solution to another problem soon. He desperately needed those Eyes of Mikami's, but clearly he could not keep acting like a madman and storm into the hospital every time someone unknown had to die. He supposed he could always make the Eye-deal himself. But no, he would never stoop that low. As God, he could not shorten his own lifespan, it was absurd. Besides, he had not seen Ryuk around for some time now. He had always found a way to get around making the Eye-deal in the past, so why not now? He simply needed to find Ryuk and someone who was as loyal to him as Mikami was, until Mikami had recovered. Then he could dispose of the substitute, or simply of Mikami, depending on who had done the job best. He could just make another sniper appear and kill one of them, that would seem realistic. But who should be Mikami's successor?

A throbbing headache started crawling sneakily from his temples to end up sitting right above the eyes. He moaned, loosened his tie a little more and dialed a number on his cell-phone.

"Segan, get me some aspirin," he said irritably and hung up. What a day.

And yet, in spite of this whole catastrophe, he could not help feeling excited just a little bit. He smiled. The headache seemed to fade. This seemed so very familiar. He remembered the day many, many years ago when Lind L. Tailor had appeared on TV, telling Light that he was evil. Then Light had killed him. It was the same kind of joyful sensation he had felt when killing Near and L. But then it had turned out that Lind L. Tailor was not in fact the real L. He smiled more broadly. As bad as everything looked, he still felt excited to finally have something to do. The years in his life which had been most fun was trying to find out L's true identity based simply on nothing more than a British accent and...

Then something occurred to Light. Clemens _too_ had had a British accent. Certainly not someone had escaped Whammy's House…? No, it was impossible. Or was it? He had not bothered searching for survivors afterwards, for who could have escaped? Maybe he should have searched. If someone _had_ escaped… then maybe, after all this time, he was fighting a new Near, a new Mello… a new L? Well. How interesting. Interesting indeed.

Someone knocked on the door. Light told them to come in.

Adéle Segan stood in the doorway. She was tall and fit, had a slim, pretty face and was in the beginning of her twenties. Her hair was shoulder long, waveringly thick and in a yellow color, almost as if it was spin of thin thread, golden, but too light to be real gold. Her startling eyes were the same color of thunder and stormy clouds. Light thought her pretty.

She was one of those infant prodigies who graduated form Medical School as a twenty-year-old with top marks all over. Light's personal physician. No better one could be found. She brought a glass of water and a bottle of aspirins, kneeling as she entered. Her white coat almost lit up the room. Her face was expressing nothing more than worshiping kindness. Any other doctor in her league would have been bored of just bringing aspirins to her patient. But not Adéle. She worshiped Kira. He told her to arise.

"Anything else, Lord?" she asked as she set the glass and put the pill on his bedside table. You could hardly hear the French accent.

"No," he said. "In fact you can take it all with you when you leave. I don't need it anymore."

She bowed deeply. Light knew this would have annoyed any normal doctor.

"Oh, and Adéle?" She stopped dead as she put her hand on the door handle. He had never addressed her with her first name before.

"Yes, Lord?" She turned around and knelt.

"Arise. You do know that I'll need you around me at all times after today's incident, don't you?"

"Yes, Lord, you told me earlier today."

"I barely know you, Adéle."

She turned her head to look at him, a little puzzled. "Lord…?"

"I mean, Adéle, you're my personal physician, I really should know who is behind the white coat." He grinned cheerfully and smiled warmly at her as he got up.

"Behind the pretty name. And speaking of pretty," he took a few steps to stand next to Adéle, and changed his voice into a whisper, "has anybody ever told you," he lifted his hand and brushed away one of the golden curls, fallen a bit out of place, "how beautiful you are?"

Adéle blushed. "Th-thank you, Lord." She made a movement to kneel in gratitude, but Light stopped her.

"You don't have to kneel before me anymore, Adéle." He let the hand which he had brushed away the curl with caress her cheek. "I'd really like to have dinner with you. Privately. Just the two of us. How's tomorrow evening?" He new perfectly well that tomorrow evening was fine - you could not say no to God.

"Yes, tha-that's perfect, Lord." She smiled excitedly. "I'm looking forward to it."

"That's excellent. I'll see you tomorrow."

She half bowed, half nodded I flurry and backed out of the room.

When the door was closed behind her, Light's smile broke out in a broad grin. But this one was contemptuous rather than cheerful. Oh, yes, he had been right to choose Adéle.

**Two Months Earlier**

Will sat comfortably in his worn out armchair with a cigarette and a Coke on the little table next to him. The little room in the two-bedroom apartment was only lit by a yellowish light from a lamp on the table. The room was not very big, but still you could not even make out it's corners in the dim light, most of the furniture in a dark brown and greenish color. The curtains were covering the small windows, outside which night hung thick and dusty in the streets of Tokyo. If the streetlights had not been turned on, and the sky was not so polluted, one would have been able to see several stars. Now all that was viewable was the yellowish moon between a torn blanket of black clouds.

Will's GP 35 handgun was soon as clean and as perfect as it was possible for it to be, but he kept on polishing it anyway. It calmed him to take care of his weapons. They all lay neatly on the table, fully loaded and ready for use. He was not sure why he cared so much for the weapons, he just always felt the need to polish them whenever he had the time.

He sucked the last bit of smoke out of the cigarette, which was actually more of a fag end than a cigarette, and stubbed it out in the ashtray on the table.

The young woman who sat on the other side of the table making out her reckonings almost seemed not to be present. They had sat like that for what seemed like an eternity, but then the girl put down her ball pen and looked up at him with her very significant gray eyes, tearing Will away from the monotonous cleaning of the gun.

He looked up at her, taking a sip of the coke now that he was taking break anyway. "What's up, A? All that math-stuff too hard for ya?"

"No." She started up the reckoning again, the golden hair, which was actually too light to be real gold, falling down into her face.

"What is it, then?" Will said. He was used to A not being all that precise.

"I need you to stop calling me A, William," she said thoughtfully. One could hardly make out the French accent.

He raised his eyebrows. "Because...?"

"Because I think I have to stop calling myself that. We have to use my real name."

"Because…?"

"Because I have to go away for some time. We can't just rely on George completely to get rid of Mikami – in case it goes wrong."

"What have you thought of doing?" Will returned expressionlessly to the GP 35.

"I'm going undercover in Kira's palace to find the notebooks and destroy them, and if I don't die after doing or in attempt to do so, I'll concentrate on having Kira himself killed."

"Is there anything I can do to talk you out of it?" Will sighed. But he already knew the answer.

"No, there isn't, William. It needs to be done, and I don't see any other person than myself fit for the job."

"So you're just gonna walk into Kira's palace and tell him your real name in the job-interview?"

"Yes. With Mikami around it would be foolish to use an alias, clearly Kira will have everyone checked before he even let them in. You must lead the men now, start fighting for real, you know, sabotage certain buildings, shoot somewhere and blow things up. You will know what to do. To keep Kira's attention off the fact that there might be an insider in his palace."

"How could he possibly know that?"

"Kira is not stupid, he is considered as smart a Near, L, Mello and myself. Maybe even smarter. That is not entirely impossible since he killed three of us."

"So I'm gonna have to address you as 'Adéle Segan' from now on?"

"No, just Adéle is fine, thank you."

"Right."


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**Author's Note: **Just a quick announcement. Some of you might have noticed that I that I have added a second genre to this story. Before it was only "Suspense", but I just added "Romance" yesterday. But don't worry, people, no intimate relationships between man and woman, I'd never use that sort of thing in my stories, poems, etc. Not that I'm particularly conservative or mind that other people do it, I'm simply to shy to write about it myself. And by the way, I'm updating as fast as I can, because now that school is started again I also have homework and dish washing and other stuff to attend, so it'll take a little longer for the updates to come in the future.

_Everything was burning. Flames the size of houses surrounding everything, coloring the clouds a bright sort of red, as though the very sky was dripping blood, fueling the fires of doomsday. _

_Buildings were falling down everywhere you would look. The asphalt was boiling hot, everywhere people where screaming in agony as they ran in blind panic on their burned feet. Children had fled into the poor shelters that was left: Roofs, which had collapsed, black and ashy trees. A little boy, no more than five years old, sat kneeling by his mother, who was bleeding from a wound no one could see, silent tears trickling down his cheeks as her hand slowly caressed his swollen face in a last dying act of love. Then her arm fell down, giving up, and the boy was abandoned, staring sobbingly at his mother's dead body._

_Light backed away from the horrible scene. Everywhere around him his perfect world was crumbling away into dust of chaos. He just wanted to turn around and run until he collapsed from exhaustion._

_Suddenly someone appeared in front of him. He felt a jolt of surprise in his stomach, he would have gasped but for some reason his voice would not obey him. He fell backwards and landed on the ground, but it did not burn him. _

_A tall, black, blurry silhouette was standing silently in front of him. He did not know who it was, could not make out anything to reveal the persons identity, but still he felt he knew him. _

"_You did this!" Light yelled shrilly, his voice working now, eyes widening in fear and rage. "You've destroyed the world!"_ _He knew it was true, that he was now in front of Clemens's boss.  
_

_The silhouette seemed to consider whether or not he had actually destroyed anything, his back rounding in a very familiar way as he approached Light who panicky crawled away from the figure. _

"_Stop!" Light ordered, but the person did not seem to care what he said. He was very thin. _

"_Stay away from me!" Light lifted his hands to protect his face from the blow he knew would come._

_But the other man just drew a notebook out from under his T-shit, scratching his leg with his one bare foot and taking a ball pen out of his pocket. _

_The Death Note gleamed in the red light as L opened it, and set the pen to he paper._

_Light screamed._

_L started laughing. Slowly he made the pen dance over one empty page as though he had all the time in the world. Light knew what he was writing. _

_But then the laughter changed, it was hoarse and raw, chuckling and not at all fitting, but still it seemed too very familiar. Light screamed once again as he knew that he would die, the laughter of L that was not L's roaring treacherously in his ears…_

Light sat up in his bed, his breathing fast and shallow as though he just ran a mile. He looked wildly around the room, his heart pounding rapidly as though it was desperate, ice cold sweat had soaked him and his cushions.

The bedroom was dark, no flames, no bleeding or screaming people anywhere, just his bed, his drawer, desk and closet. It was still raining as though he had just made dinner plans with Adéle. Yes. Adéle. It was just a dream. L was dead, and he would be dead forever. Just a silly nightmare. How stup…

"'Morning."

Light turned his head in a fright as a lightning bolt from the storm outside lit up the room and the face of Ryuk.

The human breathed a sigh of relief. "Hello, Ryuk."

"Hey, there, what's up? Bad dream?"

Light smiled. "That's none of your business."

The Shinigami chuckled and drew an apple from the paper bag he had been carrying.

"So, Ryuk, what do I owe the honor?" Light asked calmly as he poured himself some water from the glass pitcher on the bedside table.

"I was bored."

"Bored?" Light froze. Oh, no…

"Yeah. So bored in fact, that I didn't even think the apples were worth staying here for anymore."

Light felt how his upper lip started sweating. No! He had known this time would come all along, but…

"Really?" Light sounded cheerful, but he felt panic starting to spread. "That doesn't sound like you, Ryuk."

"Nah, but when you've been stuck here with nothing to do for three years but eating apples, you kinda get bored."

"I see. So you want to go back to the Shinigami Realm?"

"Well, yeah, that's what I thought about doing. But to do it, I'd have to kill you first. Not that it'd be a problem, I was actually just lifting my pen to write your name during that morning-speech of yours, you know, to get the last bit of fun out of this trip."

Light's teeth gritted. That damn Shinigami… It was not enough to just kill him, no, Light would have to be humiliated first, having a heart-attack in front of his people. However, he felt the tension loosen up, hearing the Ryuk using past tense when he spoke of his plans.

"But, as you can see, I didn't do it. Because just as I set that pen to the paper, the sniper started shooting. So I figured there just might be a little fun left in you. After all, the Shinigami Realm is no better than the Human World."

Light drank his water.

There was just a little time left to get rid of the Shinigami.

Will's shoes were dragging noisily across the asphalt as he walked down the streets of Tokyo. It was stranger to him than when he had arrived for the first time, all the concrete was being removed to make room for more beautiful buildings in a Victorian kind of style. Will was not really sure whether he liked this or not.

His thin, black hair was hidden under an old school men's hat, one you would see business-men on Wall Street wearing in the fifties. He wore regular, blue jeans and black leather boots. Normally he would wear sneakers, but boots were more practical since you could hide a Baby Browning pistol in the leg. He was very fond of loose, bright colored shirts, but Kira and therefor the police did not really approve of people looking different in public – so Will had covered his lime green shirt with a black coat.

As Will grew up, he had always been told by his mother (when she was not hospitalized on the closed ward) that he had beautiful, blue eyes like his father. Will had never known his real father, he had left when Will was five. Instead he was stuck with a stinking, abusive stepfather, who liked nothing more than beating his stepson whenever he was angry. Will still had a scar over his left ribs, and his nose would never be quite straight again.

And when his mother died when he was fifteen, Will saw no reason in stay home in New York and ran away several times, although he was always returned to the stepfather a couple of hours later.

So when he finally turned eighteen three years ago, Will went to the bank and got his savings, started his tiny car and went to Britain. He did not really know why Britain, it was just the first thing that crossed his mind.

That road trip was one of the best times in his entire life. No adults telling him what to do, what to eat, when to sleep, just him and all of England and the starry skies.

But when he was up around Oxford, one late night he ran into a girl around his own age, bruised, bleeding, confused and terrified. He took her under his wing and calmed her down, and after a few days she told him that he could call her A.

She insisted upon leaving Britain and going to Japan, and since Will had no where better to go, he followed. They sneaked on board a ship and traveled as blind passengers all the way to Japan. On the way the girl realized that he was neither Kira nor a follower of his, in fact that he actually resented him, and she told him her whole story. She was on the run from Kira because he had burned down the orphanage she had lived in, that her name was Adéle Segan and that she was going to Japan to start resistance against Kira to avenge one of her dear friends, who Kira had killed.

That sounded fair enough to Will since he had always liked weapons, and he assumed that resisting Kira would have something to do with them. Ever since he was a child he would watch everything about them in TV, and for that getting beaten up by his stepfather, and use his pocket money on posters and plastic guns. He even got himself a Browning, his all time favorite, when he was twelve, although it was quickly discovered when he nearly shut a kitten down from a tree, and confiscated.

Will sighed and lit a cigarette. Those were times. He remembered how he had been thrilled when Adéle promised him a lot of guns, although he did not get them until two years later, after they had frequented bars and night clubs to secretly recruit troops. It had taken quite a while even for someone to take them seriously, but in the end they had quite more then a handful of people. Will had especially taken a liking to George Clemens, and Irishman, who used to be a sniper of the British army before it was dissolved by Kira. He was an expert on rifles and pistols.

It had taken them another year to plan this first attempt to have Mikami killed, and it had always been George who would lighten everything up when the men thought it took too long with the plan. Adéle would never say anything, she barely even talked when she was planning, just muttering incomprehensible in French to herself, doing her reckoning.

Will sighed once again and sucked strength from his cigarette as he reached a great place with Kira's statue in the middle. It was completely deserted. He had just gotten reasonings that George had been captured, interrogated but had remained silent, and then he was murdered by Kira himself with a heart-attack. And as though that was not bad enough, it had turned out that that Mikami-character was still alive, and that Kira now knew that there were resistance against him. That would make Adéle's job a lot harder.

He stopped in front of the Kira statue, it handsome face looking contemptuously own upon him with it's gray, stone cold eyes. He felt all his dislike gathering in the chest, all the hatred, and thought for a moment about drawing his pistol, go in there and kill Mikami himself. But he knew that he would not do it. After all, he was not that stupid.

Instead he spit out the fag end with a lump of greasy snot, which landed in Kira's left eye, stickily running down his cheek and into his mouth like a tear of celebral matter. Will turned away with his face twisted in anger, walking back the way he came from. Before sticking his hands in his pockets, he drew a single tear off his cheek, a tear he did not know excisted.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own "Death Note". And sorry for forgetting the Disclaimer last time.

**Author's Note:** Thanks for reviewing and adding me to your Alerts and Favorites. You make me smile :-)! And from now on, to make it easier for everybody, I'm going to **bold** every first letter in a new paragraph, so that you can make them out. Otherwise, you are welcome to tell me how to separate paragraphs by Private Messages or by Reviewing. Please bare with my ignorance.

**A** was reckoning. The desk of her bedroom stood right in front of the great windows, so that she could view over the place by the palace and over all of Tokyo. The lights of the many houses made chaffing spots of yellow light all over the horizon, the streetlights colored the rainy clouds a sickly shade of orange.

Raindrops ran as though racing each other down the windows. The light from outside made them over sized, plastering their transparent, reflectional shadows all over her face. She lifted her head, looking out the window. Some of the golden hair had fallen out of place. She hated her hair. Always in the way.

Once again she bowed over her reckonings. It was not that she did it because she was bored. A was always bored. She more or less did it to gather her thoughts or to plan, while her hands and a little part of her mind were busy with the numbers.

She had been waiting outside while Kira interrogated George Clemens. Had heard the thuds when he hit him. She listened to their conversation, and she knew everything was lost when Clemens revealed he had shut to kill Mikami. She thought he had always been too lighthearted, in fact he was balancing a thin line between lightheartedness and foolishness.

Of course she had known that Mikami was still alive, but that she could not have told him. Then they would both have died. Now only Clemens was dead. That was better.

A had never really slept that well. Usually just for a few hours, then she would wake up, unable to sleep through more of the night. It was now 5.30 in the morning. She got up and let the pencil drop with a little clank on the glass desk, and walked into the big, white and steely kitchen of her apartment. She never ate much, either. For the most she drank water, never liked all those sticky sodas and things like that, not like L. He had been so fond of them it was almost sick. When he was still living at the orphanage, he would always be spotted eating cakes and drinking sugary tea. It was disgusting.

One time, when she came into the room he was sitting in, he had asked her if she wanted anything with him as he put a chocolate chip cookie into his mouth. She had told him that Roger wanted a talk. On his way out, he had looked her in the eye. And she had been caught, enchanted by those deep, black, silent eyes. Never forgot them. And now… _now_ they were gone and would never come back, she would never see them again. She thought that L was probably the only person she had ever taken seriously. Mello was just so _emotional _and Near was little boy who had gotten himself killed by playing noble. Other people were just ignorant. At least L was against a Shinigami, so what could he possibly… No! Why did she even remember this? It was a stupid memory of past times. The past did not exist anymore, ergo it was not important.

A took a clean glass and filled it with water from the sink. Water was basically all the human body needed to drink. She saw no need in drinking tea, wine or… _sodas_. She frowned behind her expressionless mask at the mere thought.

With her glass in one hand she returned to the desk. It was still raining. Tokyo looked sad, polluted and somewhat abandoned in the bad weather. It was unusually bad for May, actually.

Somewhere out there William was. Probably sleeping or cleaning his weapons. Well, A thought flatly, simple minds, simple joys.

She _really_ did not hope he would do anything rash now that Clemens was gone. He had befriended that Irishman way too much. He should have known that there was a great possibility that the plan would fail, and that he would then have to deal with the sorrow of Clemens's death afterwards. If William did something like storm the palace in a mix of sorrow and anger, the whole plan would be ruined. He would be captured, and A would have to help kill him, or at the very least watch as Kira did it. It would be hard to put on such an act, especially if William got sentimental and started pleading her for help. Oh, how she _hated _sentimentality. It brought nothing but misfortune.

A had never been emotional, she saw no need of showing others how she felt. Had never let anyone know what was going on inside her, although she had no problem imitating other people's feelings. She had, like L, always been a good actor.

Feeling. What was the point in doing so? No one would react or do anything about it anyway. Emotions were equal to weakness, since they would make people do irrational things like go to war. They were useless, feelings. When they went in, the brains went out.

**"H**ave some wine." Light did not take his eyes off the woman on the other side of the table, as he lifted the bottle once again.

"No, thank you," she said and instead filled her own glass with glittering mineral water.

Light's eyebrows knitted, but he sat the French vine down. She noticed his expression.

"I'm sorry, Lord, I only drink water."

He smiled. "Not at all. In fact I should probably do the same. It'd be better for my body, I suppose."

"Indeed, Lord." She returned his smile somewhat nervously.

"Soup?" He lifted the layer of the soup tureen, an enchanting smell of French onion soup sneaking itself up their nostrils. He thought that this time, to be polite, he must offer her to take the first portion.

"Thank you, Lord." She let him fill her bowl.

It was one of the most beautiful places in the palace. At the topmost of the tower, a little pavilion was placed, almost entirely made of glass. It gave a tremendous view over the skyline of Tokyo, but completely soundproof, not a single noise form outside could break through the glass. The sky was a deep blue, and yet fragile, color, stars generously strewn across the globe. They were blinking coldly from their far-away homes in outer space, watching the two people in the glass pavilion. The moon was gigantic, one could make out all the countless craters on the scarred surface. The Milky Way was thrown right across the sky, vaporous and still curiously clear, like flour of diamonds. They sat in the middle of the room, above them the ceiling was also made of glass, two small candles on their table.

Adéle Segan was wearing a black evening gown with no decorations whatsoever. High, black heels and little, sparky, golden earrings. And then only her wavy her and her magnificent eyes. He must admit she was enchanting. The moon had made a film of silvery white on one side of her hair, her eyelids falling slowly as the first spoonful of soup disappeared between her lips and she closed her gray eyes. He watched her calmly, supporting his chin in his hand, legs crossed, a curious smile on his face. He had not even touched his own portion.

"Adéle, do you like the soup?"

She opened her eyes, snapping out of it, removing the spoon. "Yes, very much, Lord."

"That's good. I figured you would since you grew up in France."

A looked at him. So, he did not quite trust her yet. He made it sound like it merely was polite gesture in her honor, but she knew he was trying to make her release some information that could relate her to Whammy's House. "I am very honored. Thank you, Lord." She bowed her head deeply to him.

Adéle Segan grew up on a French orphanage, her parents unknown. A tragic story about a girl fighting for everything she ever had. A, on the other hand, had been at Whammy's House since she was a mere baby.

"Forgive me," Light started, "but I read about you before hiring you as my physician. I've got to check on everyone I let into the palace. I have to make sure I can trust them. You saw proof of that last week." He smiled in what would seem bitter way, but she new better. He distractedly touched his cheek. The cut was healing quickly.

He looked up at her and their eyes met. Her eyes, globes of sacred light, so similar to the magnificent moon. She was indeed very beautiful. But however clever and bright she might be, Light knew she was blind and naive towards him, like Mikami and everyone else. Blinded by God, they only too late realized he was using them. But he had to win her trust completely if he should have Ryuk grant her the Eyes. He probably already had it, her trust, but he could not afford to take any chances. Or could he? If she turned out to not be proper material, he could simply dispose of her. He was in such desperate need of Eyes he could almost not afford to wait any longer. But – if she let it slip that he was killing merely by a notebook, there would be a catastrophe, and who else would he turn to while Mikami was out? She was his only hope. Beside… himself. But no, he had not sunken that deep yet.

"I completely understand, Lord, of course you have to check everyone you let in. I think it is very clever of you". Adéle smiled.

Ryuk yawned behind him. Should he have just killed Light? Was it really worth all the trouble? All the romance was no fun, the idiot was basically just sucking up to the chick. But still, Ryuk would have to wait and see. What was better, after all, this or the Shinigami Realm?

A placed her hand on the white tablecloth as she lifted her glass to drink some water. She closed her eyes briefly, but opened them immediately as she felt something warm placing itself upon her hand. She slowly put down her glass as she with her gaze followed Kira's fingertips to his wrist, up his long, slim hands and all the way to his face. The eyes were covered by the brown hair, but he was smiling in caring way.

He is trying to win my trust, A thought.

"Adéle…" Their hands knitted by themselves, and he tightened his grip a little. "You're one of the most beautiful women I've ever been so lucky to meet, to even see. I must admit these past weeks I've had trouble stopping to think about you when I go to bed. You fill my mind, Adéle."

She knew he was lying through his teeth, but she put on a mask of being enchanted by his words. Kira got up, and walked up behind her chair, slowly, stopping behind her. She turned her head to look at him, but he told her to just relax. Then he stuck his hand in his inner pocket of the jacket and drew forth a square box, covered in blue silk.

Light opened up the box and took the necklace from inside it. It was of startling silver, shaped in discrete stalks and leaves, small diamonds as the cores of the flowers glittering in the circle of the necklace like a tiny Milky Way.

Light took each end with his fingertips and joined them around her neck.

Adéle lifted her hand and touched the necklace, which felt cold against her skin. It was beautiful.

A was sure she was a mouse and he was a snake, friendly as long as he saw benefit.

"Do you like it?" Kira whispered in her left ear.

"Yes, Lord… I don't know what to say. It is very beautiful, thank you so much…"

"Not as beautiful as you, of course," Light smiled. He let his finger run down the fine carvings of the silver, she felt his breaths against the skin of her neck. He gently brushed some locks of her hair behind her ear, caressing her cheek. She turned around, meeting his shadowy, invisible eyes. He put his hand under her chin, leading it closer to his own lips…

Someone knocked on the door in the floor, under which stairs were leading downwards. They both froze, Light drawing himself away from the young woman, irritation deeply cut in his face. "Enter."

A black suited man opened the door and stumbled inside. He looked bewildered and harassed as he fell to his knees before Light, but first of all terrified of having to come up here.

"What is it?" Light barked as he brushed non-existing dust off his sleeve.

"Lord… It's… I…"

"Spit it out, man!"

"I'm sorry, Lord… It's… the Government offices… someone just… just…"

"Didn't I tell you to _spit it out_?!" Light now looked genuinly mad. "Come on with it or just go away!"

"My apologies… The Government offices, Lord. Someone just… just blew them up."


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**Author's Note: **Hi everyone. I really hope that people is still with me in this. Please review when you've finished reading. And sorry for the relatively late update, I've had a lot of homework lately and been totally uninspired.

And by the way, I only just recently learned that putting characters you made yourself into a fanfic is a bad thing. Sorry about that. Hope you forgive me. It won't happen again. I think. Can't promise anything xD. But of course I'm finishing this story, I can't just end it in the middle of everything, and I've actually been looking a little forward to writing the very last chapter. Hehehe…

Man, a weird note.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own "Death Note".

**W**ill took a quick look around, gripping his Browning more tightly. The streets appeared to be completely, oddly, deserted, as they had been all night. It was unusually starry. The Milky Way was threatening to fall down upon them every minute like the arm of a gracious ghost. Stars blinking motionlessly, the moon so big one could almost throw a lasso around it.

He checked that the little ear piece sat probably in his ear. Not that he doubted it, in fact it was more an act of desperate need of something to do, until they got the go-signal. The huge gateway they were hiding in was sickeningly clean, the broad boulevard was something all new designed by Kira himself, for nothing was too good for the Government buildings. He was part of the government himself, but never bothered going to the meetings, instead he had placed a bunch of politicians there, all them his puppets, so nothing important was actually decided in the government – everybody knew that. Kira simply kept it going like a facade. The actual decisions were made by himself from the palace, that was also common knowledge.

The buildings themselves were right in front of the little group of people, looking very much like the White House in D.C. – Will had been there once when his mother was not so ill she could actually go out of the house. It was a very boring trip, but the fact that his mother was with him made everything worth it. Would she be proud of him if he knew what he was doing right now? Of course she would not. She would be to busy looking fragile in her bed, telling him weakly not to do anything put himself, her or his father in danger. When she said "his father" it was a faint attempt of making Will accept his stepfather. Never worked.

Will smiled bitterly. Nope, no one he knew would be proud of him. Except for maybe… A? It was her plan after all, and he was following every step she had made out. He barely knew her, but still when he said her name inside his head, it made him smile. The furiously gray eyes, the face, beautiful and perfect like a doll's, expressionless like plastic.

Only now that she was gone he realized how much he missed her.

A voice cracking through his thoughts from the ear piece. "Alrighty, boss, everything is okey-dokey. All the cameras are dead. Only a matter of time before they call for reinforcements, though, I'd give you fifteen minutes. Nope, probably more like ten."

"Roger that, Ryan. And don't call me boss." Will lowered the walkie-talkie. Ryan was one of his old friends from high school, one hundred percent computer-geek and one of the greatest hackers in America. Will had found him wandering around New York.

"Right you are, boss. Over and out." The ear piece died.

"Alright," Will turned to his men, "you know the plan. Team A place the bomb on the Eastern side, Team B the Western, Team C go with me and hold off the guards. Now, everybody check their masks. Okay. You got nine minutes. Go, go, go!"

The ten people did not even nod for an answer, but parted into their groups and left off. There were two people on each Team A and B, one explosives-expert and one guard to cover his or her back.

Will checked his white plastic-mask, and he and the five people ran right across the street. Two of them went in to get out the guards, while Will and the others stayed out to cover their backs.

One minute later they came out with three guards – only three. Will was amazed. He had been counting on at least seven. Sure, there would be a few extra, maybe three or four, patrolling the corridors, but only three to guard the entrance? It was absurd. Will stared at the pathetic figures, cowering on their knees, not even armed with a pistol, rendered harmless with their own handcuffs. It was almost as it was too easy.

"Team B, done," a woman's voice announced in his ear.

"Roger. Okay, you know the plan. Set the bomb. Depart and meet at headquarters. Over and out."

"Understood. Over and out."

A few second later Team A was done.

Will announced that the everything had worked out perfectly the moment everything went wrong. Something small whistled though the night air. One of the men on his team fell to the ground the a bloody hole in his head, his mask thrown off hos face. Snipers. Will should have known.

They were on the roof, dressed in black and with long, top modern rifles. Will had been right. It _was_ too easy.

"Leave no one! Don't let them spot your faces!" He shouted as he aimed his Browning for the men on the roof. To loud bangs, two of five snipers screamed and fell, one landed on the ground with horrible, breaking noises, the other just fell backwards.

Two of his people picked up the dead man, running back towards the gateway they had been coming from, just fifty meters away a black car was waiting. Another two stayed and helped Will.

Will shut like a madman after the snipers, as guards just kept coming out of the entrance. Almost as if they had been waiting for this.

"Retreat!" He shouted and started to pull back. Oh, how this had gone wrong. What would A have said? But he did not think any further, for then something smacked into his forehead. A blinding pain, everything went black.

**L**ight had troubles drying the smirk off his face. He felt like chuckling, but he kept it inside his own body. This was almost too perfect! Fools.

The room was dark, only lit sort of greenish by the the many screens which had been completely black not to long ago. Except for one showing the pictures from the surveillance-cameras at the entrance of the government. Wires and plugs and sockets messily crowded the floor.

On the video-screen Light saw it all happen. They came running across the street, nine people, heavily armed, divided into what would seem to be groups. It would appear that a hacker had broken into the computer-system of the Government and turned off all the cameras – except for one. Fool. Forgotten to turn off the camera of the entrance, so Light would have a perfect view over all of the events. _Fool_.

The young man who appeared to be the leader of these rebellions sent two persons into the building, and they came out with the three guards he had placed to trick precisely these rebellions into a false feeling of safety.

It looked like the leader pressed his ear, his ear piece more likely, and then said something into a walkie-talkie.

Then the snipers came forth. Light almost had to press his mouth with his hand to keep himself from laughing at this point. They quickly killed one man, then the leader announced the retreat after killing two of the snipers only by using his handgun. Light could not say he was not impressed.

But then, and here Light giggled quietly, one of the bullets of the snipers smacked into the ground and then flew up once more in a slanting angle, hitting the leader in his face, his plastic mask falling in pieces from his face.

Light smiled. Then two people came back, lifted him up and carried him with them. No sooner were they out of the picture before the Government exploded.

"Reverse," Light barked, and one of the blue-uniformed guards in front of the screen feverishly pressed the button.

"Pause," he said. The young man was lying unconscious on the ground.

"Zoom in." The picture became bigger until it filled the entire screen.

"You," his voice gentle like a snakes, as he pointed a guard out. "Go get Mikami, will you?" The man fell to his knees and hurried out of the room.

"And you other people – get out." They bowed or knelt and stumbled across each other to get out. They were afraid of him. Truly pathetic.

A stood behind Kira. Her mask of stone, expressionless, was in place like always, but inside she cursed William to darkest debts of Hell. That _idiot_! Fool! That… that… oh, _curse_ him! Now he would die, and there was nothing he nor she could do about it. How could he have been so careless? Now everything was ruined! If William died, the rebellions would not have any leader and then nothing mattered at all. It was all William's fault. He should not have been so careless. Should have brought more people. But was she not the one who had told him to bring only nine? No! Absurd! She had told him to bring more people… She must have done. After all she could not have been mistaking. Oh, she was surrounded by imbeciles. Now William would die. But maybe it was better that way. He could not have taken his job seriously, making a fiasco like this one. If you wanted something done, you always had to do it by yourself.

"Adéle."

She raised her head as Kira cut across her thoughts. "Yes?"

"I'm going to have to tell you good night now. It's been a lovely evening. But I need to do some damage-control now."

"That is fine, Lord." She knelt. "I thank you for the necklace… I do not deserve it. It's so beautiful." She touched it with her fingertips. It really was.

Kira turned around, smiling reassuringly. He gave her his hand, she took it and raised herself.

"Nothing is too beautiful for you, Adéle," he whispered, brushing her cheek gently with his lips.

"Lord…"

"I'll see you soon." He kissed her lightly on the lips. She blushed.

"Goodnight, Adéle."

"Goodnight… Lord." She hurried out of the room.

Light turned to the screen once again. She was just a stupid as the rest of them. All he had to do was buy her a pretty necklace and take her to a dinner in the in the moonlight, and she was his. But not quite yet – he had to make sure he could trust her completely. But it was no long way to go.

The door was knocked on. Light told them to enter, and a nurse pushing Mikami in a wheelchair came in. She knelt and Light told her to go.

"God!" Mikami nearly fell out of his chair in his eagerness to kneel. With a low thud he hit the floor, nose and mouth so close he could have licked it. He looked a lot better than last week when Light had been to ask him for George Clemens's name, wearing a bathrobe that hid the bandages. He wore his glasses, the raven hair washed and combed, color in his pale cheeks.

"I'm happy to see you're feeling better, Mikami." Light stared at the screen with a wicked smile. "Arise."

The prosecutor got on his feet, pain shooting through his stomach, but it did not matter. To be of use to God was worth sustaining far worse things.

"God… Tell me how to serve you."

"I don't need you to do very much for me right now, Mikami. Just look at the screen and tell me the name of the young, unconscious man."

Mikami was not disappointed in the easy job. One could not be disappointed in God. "William Aballini, God."

"Right. Thank you, Mikami." God was smiling. But he was not taking out his Death Note. He just stood there, quietly…

"God, if I may…" Mikami once again knelt, without really thinking about it.

"Yes, what is it?" God was not annoyed. His voice was gentle and quiet.

"Why are you not writing his name?" The man on the floor lifted his head.

"Simply because he doesn't have to die."

"God?"

"This man, William Aballini, is the leader of a new resistance movement against me and my perfect world. He does not have to die – yet. He _will_ die, I promise you, Mikami. But if we just kill him now, then the other rats would run around and blow things up on their own. I need to capture him and interrogate him before I kill him. So that we can get rid og them all, and not just the tip of the iceberg."

Mikami saw how brilliant this was. He could not kneel any lower, but he wished he could. God was perfect. He smiled.

"You're excused, Mikami. Thank you for your help." Still not turning Light pressed a button on the table, and the nurse came back in, helping Mikami into his wheelchair and taking him out, after kneeling and being dismissed.

Oh, how this was perfect. He could not have planned it any better himself. Soon he would have Adéle Segan's trust, and if he needed it, he could grant her the Eyes. She would no doubt accept them, take them as though they were blessing. And this William Aballini… when he was captured he could not only tell the identities of his people, but also if there really were an insider in the palace. After all, Clemens would need the knowledge of an insider or maybe even the help of a such, to even get onto the roof without being noticed. William just needed to be lured into the right trap.

But still, he could not say he was not worried. These punks had been using masks to cover their faces, and if that was not prove enough, Aballini had yelled at them not to let themselves be spotted. That must mean… they knew. Like Clemens. There was a connection – not that Light was surprised, he had in fact been sure of it. But he had made sure that all the people who knew about the Death Not were dead.

That left only three options. One was that Mikami had betrayed him, which seemed foolishly unlikely. If nothing else, Mikami was loyal to his God.

Or another Shinigami could have appeared in the Human World and given a Death Note to one of the rebellions. But if that was the case, then one would think that Light and Mikami would have already died. Unless of course that person did not have the Eyes yet, and like Light himself did not want to give up half his or her life to get them. So now they were trying to get his real name. But how could this have anything to do with this blowing up the Government-thing? Anyway, Light needed to be extremely careful from now on, even more careful than he had been lately.

The third possibility… was that someone had escaped Whammy's House, which he had been thinking before. But was it even possible? Could anyone escape the inferno it had been? He did not think it very likely, but he had to consider it a possibility – he could not afford to throw it off.

He was not sure what sounded craziest – another Shinigami or a new L.

**Author's Note:** Thank you so much for reviewing! Thanks, thanks, thanks! I know it says that this is a Light/Mikami fanfic, and it was supposed to be, but I kind of feel like Mikami has not really been much of a maincharacter lately. But fear not, people, he'll have his moments. I just thought that I should use some time to describe Will's and Adéle's characters. And after reading the two reviews I just received, it would appear that another Mikami fan (aside from myself) is wandering amongst us. GO, GO MIKAMI xD!


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**Author's Note: **Thank you for reviewing – again. You give me courage to continue writing.

After reading a review I just received, I've learned that not everybody (including myself) hate OCs – _HA_, in you face OC-haters xD. Sorry about that, I'm just kidding.

I'm pretty sure, though, that I'm not so fond of fanfics where there is absolutely no characters from the anime/book/TV show/etc. present. But no offense, I totally respect whatever points of view you might have.

And another thing: There will probably be longer in between the chapters in the future, since I have to do my homework, hang out with my friends, write on the second book in trilogy of mine, and sleep (blast that week human body!). I should really get to work about that book, I find that I've postponed it long enough. So sorry. But don't worry, the chapters should show up some time. And by the way, I feel that I've updated relatively fast on this story so far.

My notes are _way_ to long. I just love talking.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own "Death Note".

**W**ill pushed his plate away. He sighed and let his head fall back onto the leathery couch.

"You shouldn't be that hard on yourself, boss." Ryan's fork eagerly dicked up the sticky stew on his plate. He dotted the i with a big sip of the can of Coke. His porky chins vibrating at the movement like those of a turkey's. He had short, mousy-brown hair, watery eyes and mouth that was constantly half-opened, as though forever cursed to be in stupid awe. He was so overweight, in fact, that he had trouble sitting in the roomy armchair.

"Would you zip it already?" Will snarled. He rolled onto his side, staring into the back of the couch, above which the wall with the peeling, orange paint. In the two weeks it had been since the government, Will had not left head quarters – his worn-down apartment – and hardly the black couch.

"Ya know, boss," Ryan ignored Will's request of zipping it, "you were lucky it didn't go straight through. Your head, I mean. Straight through your head. The bullet, you know. Whole place soaked in blood and brain and celebral matter, can ya picture it, boss? Can ya? I'm telling ya…"

"Just _zip it_, Ryan," Will said through gritted teeth. He closed his eyes, resting his hand above the eyes to close out the light from the curtained window. "And _stop calling me boss_!"

How could it have gone wrong? So terribly wrong? It was unbelieveable. He lost one of his best men. Almost lost his own life.

"You gotta eat, boss," Ryan stated. "Or you'll just get all thin and weak and yellow…"

Will let him talk. Ryan had always been an idiot when it came to everything but computers. What did he know about anything? Will had failed, failed so badly he did not even deserve to live anymore. Zip it, Ryan.

What would A have said? She would just have looked at him, being deeply disappointed. She, of all people, was the worst one he could get disappointed.

"Look," Ryan put down his plate as he turned a serious gaze to Will's neck, realizing that the other was not listening. "It didn't go as wrong as you think it did, as I've been telling you the last couple of weeks."

Will just wished he would shut up.

"You got the buildings blown up alright. For it to go as wrong as you imagine, you would have to turn up, accomplishing nothing, and all get killed. Seriously. And all the people you brought there knew what they could end up having to pay to put an end to Kira."

Will did not answer. Ryan sighed melodramatically and turned on the TV. It was the news, Will could hear. All the speakers and journalists were handpicked by Kira to brainwash the people. There was also only one channel. This blond, blue-eyed speaker-lady was particularly annoying, with a bright and sort of squeaky voice, for the most a big, bright plastic smile.

"… _and then there have been riots all day in inner Tokyo. Several shops have been shattered, ten people have been injured, and statues of our beloved god Kira has been victims of blasphemous vandalism_."

Will turned around to look at the little TV screen. What? Vandalism? From whom? Ryan looked even more in awe than usual.

"_The police think that this is a response to the evil cell who two days ago blew up our government. Apparently the vandals of the riots today side with this resistance-movement, which were the course of chaos and loss of our dear traffic minister, Anzai Watanabe. _

_The riots today are the unforgivable acts of people who do not wish to live in the peaceful world that Kira has created for us. They wish war and hatred and crime like before. One hundred people have been arrested, and Kira has announced that they shall all face execution as soon as possible. _

_This has been Ai Matsumoto with the 17 News. Good night to you all_."

Ryan turned off the TV, but he was still staring at the black screen with his mouth wide open.

"Did ya hear that, boss?" he said, having finally pulled himself and his jaws together. "Riots! This is great!"

Will, speechless, could only agree with him.

**"N**o, please!" The man cried. He was the last one. His bulldog-eyes were pleading Light's forgiveness and mercy, his greasy skin shining with sweat in the light of the sun, which had just broken through the white clouds. Light watched him coldly.

The place was full of people, terrified and yet excited, their eyes drifting from the dead bodies in the middle of the place, surrounded by a wall police officers, to his impressive person on the great balcony. Around the man on the ground, this _rebellion_, were the bodies of the nine others in this man's group. The people who had started the riots had been divided into ten groups of ten for their execution, because surely he could not kill them all at the same time. The corpses from the last group must be removed before the next one came. Otherwise it would get very crowded. Guards were all over the place, on the roofs, blended in with the civilians, on the very balcony. Light could not take any chances.

"You have defied me," Light had said loudly, had almost been yelling, but his face completely calm, as the first group had come in. "And in doing so you have betrayed the world. You have betrayed your fellow humans. For this you must die." It had been amusing to see them all shaking in their fear of death. Hear them plead for mercy. And see them rattle in pain and then collapse. The crowd around the execution spot had stared in a kind of enchanted awe every time someone had fallen. Disgusting, really, but he let them have their fun. Still, he could not help but notice that there were fewer people in the audience than there used to be. People had stopped showing up. At this he had frowned. Why? Why were they leaving him, his faithful people? Surely not because they thought his cause was evil – like those heretics who blew up the government? How could they turn from their God?

"Please, Lord, no!" The man did his best to kneel, his hands tied, and Light was pulled back into the present.

Light turned his head and nodded. Mikami, now fully recovered, stood in the shadows behind the doorway with a page of the Death Note. This was very risky, even though it would look to any passerby as though the prosecutor was simply taking notes. Actually, Mikami _was_ taking notes, writing the name of the next person to be executed, and then the time that person would die. It was very important that Light lifted his hand and pointed at the prisoner two seconds before the heart attack would take place, so that it would look to the people as though he killed by mere will. That was why he could not afford to write the deaths ahead of the execution ceremony, in case the time schedule slipped. Very risky, yes. Light smiled.

Mikami's pen lifted off the paper. "Delete."

_Tetsugorou Fukuda_. He looked with disgust down upon the man on place, as he in his head counted forty seconds forward and wrote that time on the page of the note. He clicked the pen so that the inky tip shut back into the inner of it. One hundred names exactly, written so that they would all be equally long, with letters the same size, on precisely five pages.

He was done. Thirty five seconds passed. God lifted his hand and pointed with his finger on Tetsugorou Fukuda, who at that very instant rattled for the last time, stopped breathing and died. When his corpse had been removed, God began his speech about treachery, the prize to pay for it and the perfect world.

Mikami folded the pages in exactly the same size squares before putting them into his pocket, which was exactly the same size as the papers were now. Then he knelt as God finished his speech.

"Stand."

Mikami had not noticed God coming back from the balcony. He stood up.

"I want to tell you something." God's eyes were hidden by his brown hair.

"Yes, God. Shall we…?"

"No, we'll stay right here." Light's eyes took a look around the room, guards by all the doors._ To make sure they hear us_, he ended the sentence in his thoughts.

Mikami bowed his head. God had his reasons.

"The people you've just seen being executed sympathizes with a certain resistance-cell against my perfect world, this cell was the one behind the attack on the government. You know that much."

Mikami nodded. He did know.

"The leader of the movement is the person we know who is." The guards by the door, the ones who were closest, were still standing quite still, but Light knew that they were listening closely out of curiosity. This information had never been made public.

_William Aballini_, Mikami knew.

"The movement's top goals are to destroy this beautiful world, to stop our punishment of scum," God was saying they wanted to destroy the Death Notes, "and to kill the two of us."

Mikami was amazed by God's brilliance.

"To obtain this, I've got reason to believe that the leader's placed a spy behind my lines. An insider, if you want." Light had been sure of this for some time now – if Aballini wanted to find and destroy the notebooks, then this seemed the only way to do so.

Mikami's eyes widened in disbelief. An insider?

"But don't worry, I've got everything under control. I've already deduced that the person is one who's got a high status in either the government, the police or it simply is a person I talk to everyday and whom I trust. It's only a matter of time before I catch him, though." Light put up a warm and reassuring smile.

"Is there anything I can do, God?" Mikami could still not let go of his uneasy feeling.

"No, not at the moment. But I'll let you know if something comes up."

"Then, God… if I may… why have you shared this important information with me?"

"I think you have the right to know after saving my life. You can consider it an act of thanks."

Mikami eyes over floated. He fell into a kneeling position without knowing. "Thank you, God. I wont disappoint you again."

God smiled and turned to leave. The guards followed him. Mikami was left, looking overwhelmed with worshipfulness at the spot where God's face had been, he first after God had left pulled himself together and got up.

Light smiled, his eyes gleaming for a short moment. _Lies_. It was so easy. It was no act of thanks that he had told Mikami. It was all in honor of the guards. After all, they were human, and humans cannot resist the urge of gossip. Soon the word would spread that Kira knew there was an insider – and the insider would get panicky, maybe even slip and reveal himself. Or if he was smart enough not to, he would at least try to warn Aballini that Kira knew. Light had set traps that would reveal if the spy tried anything like this. He was winning. Again. Again. And again. And even in that rare case that the insider would not warn Aballini – Light had a second plan.

As he left the throne room he found Adéle Segan standing by the door. He stopped, so did the bodyguards.

"Adéle, what a pleasant surprise."

The silly girl smiled. "Why, thank you, Lord."

"I want to see you again. It's been forever, don't you think?"

"Well… yes, but you have been busy, Lord. I completely understand…"

"You don't have to understand. I should be apologizing for putting you in second you like that. I will come and get you tomorrow evening. I have a surprise. And that's a promise."

She bowed, having trouble concealing her joy, he could see. "I'm looking very much forward to it, Lord."

"Me too." He lovingly squeezed her hand as he left.

Behind Adéle Segan's mask, A's eyes narrowed. She had heard his conversation with Mikami. So that was what he was up to. Too bad it would not work.

**Author's Note:** Wow, this is a _mindbugger_! Coming up with Light's plans like that… I really have to squeaze my brain to get all of it's juices. Geez… Now I wanna watch some TV or something else where I don't have to think. Anyway, hoped you enjoyed this part. I know that there weren't much action in here, but this chapter is necessary for the later ones. And I'm sorry to say this, but we're closing in on the end. And please remember to review.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**Author's Note:** Thank you for reviewing! I hope you enjoy this chapter, even though there's not much action going on in it – again. But just be patient, it'll come.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own "Death Note".

**Y**asu got up. The strict look of her teacher made her bow her head. She nervously corrected her red uniform-butterfly.

"Nakagawa," the teacher said, "since you _obviously_ think it more important to pass notes around than to listen to The Oath of Faith, then you must already know it. Could you please recite it for us?" His cold eyes pierced her through his square glasses.

"Erh, yes, sir." Her eyes were everywhere but upon his face, the skinny knees almost glued together when she took a deep breath to recite the Oath, her black hair hanging dully around her pale face. She turned her eyes to the picture of Kira hanging over the blackboard and closed her eyes.

Her fist clenched, crumbling the note which she had not been passing. She had to bite her lip not to shed a tear.

_Who thinks Yasu Nakagawa is a total looser? _Twenty "me"s of agreement had been set on the torn piece of paper.

"Well, go on, girl, we don't have all day!" The teacher patted his desk significantly with his ruler.

"_I… I pledge my allegiance to my beloved God_

_- He, who has rid my world of evil,_

_He, who has given me peace,_

_He, who has… _erhm_… healed my heart, _

_And…_ erh… I don't remember the rest." She miserably lowered her head even more.

Even though she could not see his face, she knew that the corners of the teacher's mouth curled upwards in a scornful smile.

"Why, would you look at that. Class, can you please help Yasu here remember her Oath, since she's too _stupid _to do it herself? Sit, Nakagawa." His voice could turn a glass of water into ice.

Her classmates stood up.

"_I pledge my allegiance_ _to my beloved God_

_- He, who has rid the world of evil,_

_He, who has given me peace,_

_He, who has healed my heart,_

_And he, who has brought upon me the salvation._"

They sat down. Yasu stared down into her table, so ashamed she was walking the boarder of tears.

"Nakagawa, stand up if it's not to much trouble for you." His voice was gentle, but she new it was the silence before the storm.

"Now, go to the blackboard and write one hundred times: 'I must not show my stupidity'. Class dismissed."

Everyone packed their bags as the bell rang, telling jokes and giggling as they left the classroom.

"Looser," one girl whispered derisively into her ear as she walked past.

Yasu got up, went up to the black board and took a piece of chalk. _I must not show my stupidity… I must not show my stupidity… I must not show…_

"And Nakagawa," the teacher said from the doorway as he left as the last person. "Really: Try not to." His smile was friendly, but his eyes were laughing at her as he left.

Yasu drew a salty drop away from her cheek.

**T**hey were in the pavilion, view over Tokyo, although dark clouds covered the sky this time. But they could not see the sky, because black venetian blanks had been set up to cover the not-so-pleasant view. The small room was lit with little, orange candles all over, red lanterns.

She wore the necklace he had given her last time. A black dress, not a gown, reaching no longer than down to her knees, showing the world her long, slim legs. High heels, black, her hair in an ingenious bun with a silver hairpin, shaped in blooming orchids.

She rested her head on his chest, against his white tie as they danced a slow dance to a quiet piano. She could feel his warm breath against her ear, his gentle hands around her waist, his chin on her soft hair. She closed her eyes.

"I see you're wearing the necklace. Do you like it?"

She raised her head, smiling happily, looking him in the eye. "Of course, Lord. It's so beautiful."

"Thank you, Adéle. And… I want you to do something."

"Anything, Lord, anything."

"I want you to stop calling me Lord. And say Light instead."

Adéle's eyes widened, amazed and yet happy at the same time. A smiled – that fool. She had him now.

"Light? Is that your name, Lor… I mean Light?"

"Yes, it is."

"I… I feel so honored… Light."

"Do you like it – my name?"

"Yes, it is so… unique. And fitting. For God to be named Light. It is beautiful, too."

"Thank you. Not as beautiful as Adéle, though."

"You flatter me, Light." She bowed her head again, blushing.

"Not at all." He lifted her chin back up, gently with his fingertips, looking into her eyes through his hair. "I love you, Adéle."

Her eyes reflected the light of the nearest lantern. He loved her? _Lies_, A thought, loathing him. He does not love me anymore than he love a cockroach under his shoe.

"I love you too… Light," she breathed. His lips were nearing hers. He bowed his head, their mouths met, she felt his fit body against her own as he embraced her lovingly, gently. A warm sensation spread though his very kiss into all of her body, a warmth that was sacred and amazing, and she never wanted to let him go. Or Adéle did not.

**W**hat he supposed to do? What could he possibly have done? Sure, drawn his gun and stormed the bastards, which would only have resulted in his own captivity. So he could not have done anything. That homeless guy would just have to take care of himself for now. It was not like Kira was going to kill him for begging people for money… or was it? Will soon could not count all the things which would be punished by execution.

He just watched along with the other citizens as the police dragged away the poor man. He begged for help and mercy, but no one reacted. Will was disgusted with himself. He pulled down his hat, tightened his coat and turned on the spot, walking back into the shadows of the little alley he had come from.

This district of Tokyo had yet to modernized, a smell of garbage hung heavily in the air in here. The houses somewhat sadly hung in their places, loud music and two people fighting echoing between the rotting walls.

Will sighed and lit an cigarette. A would have thought it stupid to help the homeless guy. Suicide. _Irrational_, she would have said. He could almost hear her voice in his head as he quietly spoke the word. She had such a beautiful voice. Beautiful all over. He smiled and closed his eyes as her face made it's way to his mind. He had never heard her laugh. But he knew it would be the most amazing sound ever known to mankind. He leaned up a wall of one of the houses. A smiled at him, which she had never done in real life either. But he knew she would some day. Being proud of him, when all this was over, the two of them would run away together. Maybe live somewhere in Britain, a quiet place up in Scotland, perhaps. She would like that.

_Irrational._ She used that word a lot. When she had described the plan to him it had shown up every five seconds.

"_It is irrational to go to war…"..._

... "_How irrational, really."..._

... "_I find my plan idiot proof, but you must do your best, William, to try and not do anything irrational." _

"_But… If you were to do something irrational out of… let us say – _emotion_, and you got caught… I want you to have this." She reaches down into her pocket, bringing to the light of the lamp a little, white box. She tosses it to him. _

_He catches the box with his right hand with ease, examining it indifferently. _

"_Open it, William, " A says as she turns away. _

_He obeys, inside the little box two small, cylindrical pills are located, white, plain, shiny surface. He turns his eyes to A's back, silent asking her what the heck this was supposed to be? _

"_It is cyanide, William," she answers expressionlessly, as if she had heard his question. _

"_Cyanide? Which is…?" William thinks it sounds like something chemical, but since when had he bothered to listen in Science Class?_

"_Cyanide is a highly toxic chemical, which will stop the transport of oxygen to the cells of the human body. If taken, death shall occur within minutes, most likely one or two. Loss of conscience even quicker."_

"_And you're giving them to me, because…?" Will knows what she will answer, but the thought is too horrible for him to recognize it. _

"_Because we know that Kira will not hesitate to use torture in means of reaching his goals. During the World Wars One and Two, spies and resistance fighters used cyanide to take their own lives in case they were caught. They would not risk revealing any information regarding their comrades."_

"_So, what you're asking…"_

"_What I am asking," A said, cutting him off, "is that you carry these pills with you at all times. Leave them in the box, put them in a pocket. That should distract Kira's men." She tosses him a men's bracelet. "There is a third in here. The biggest bead is hollow. If you shake it, you can hear a pill rattling. The bead can be crushed by putting ones nails into the marked places, yes, there, and then pressing."_

"_What… You're asking me to kill myself?" He cannot hide his disbelief._

_"Think of the tablets only as a last resort. I carry three as well. No one but you and some chosen few knows my true identity. We all have these three. If you are caught, William, and there are no means of escaping, use the pill. You shall crush it with your teeth and swallow."_

Will sat up, awakening. His hand flew to the pocket of his coat – he felt the little box against his hand. And he felt the bracelet. The rattling bracelet. Everything was the same.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**Author's Note: **I forgot my ending Author's Note last time, so here's gonna be a looooong one – be warned:

Cyanide. I got the idea of cyanide tablets, because it seemed like something A would come up with. And plus, Danish freedom fighters during Word War II used them. Probably the ones in France, too. But I know shockingly little about those French characters, except that they practically invented liquidation.

The most famous partisan of Denmark in particular (his nickname was "Flammen" / "The Flame") used a cyanide tablet to commit suicide instead of being captured by Gestapo (_Geheimnis Statspolizei, i.e. __Secret Government Police – _probably. Not so good translation, sorry. But you get the point_._)

But I wanted to look at the symptoms of cyanide poisoning and how the pill works, so I got to some really nasty sites – or nasty descriptions anyway – about other kinds of poisoning, too. If you swallowed, say, cleaning products, they'd do some horrible acid-stuff to your throat. And let's just leave it at that. You guys owe me a review for his xD.

Anyway, enjoy this chapter – action coming up! Yeeha! (Chapter is very much inspired by Danish resistance movements and their work 1940-45. A friend of mine says that I have a kinda scary obsession for this period of Danish history.)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own "Death Note".

"**T**his information is very valuable to me." Light closed his eyes and smiled. _There_! He had been staring out the window, staring at the drops falling from the sky, and yet his eyes had been empty, far away, misty with thought.

Mikami stood in the very back of the room, hiding in the shadows, the notebook in his hands. He followed Light almost everywhere.

"Thank you, Lord," the kneeling man replied. The room was dark, no lamps were lit, the spy's face was invisible to him right now. However, his massive body made him hard not to notice, even in the heavy darkness.

"So you're planning to take action tomorrow?" Light's voice was calm, but inside he was giggling quietly to himself.

"Yeah, that's right… Lord," the traitor quickly added. Light could hear his breathing fasten and become more strained. He could almost see the sweat trickle in little pearls down his greasy face, his fat lips dry. And Light was disgusted. But he did not say that.

"Very well. I understand it'll only be William Aballini and a few chosen people?"

"Yeah, Lord."

"And he'll be the one shooting?"

"Yes."

Excellent, Light thought. This was exactly what he had been waiting for. "Do you know where he'll be when trying to assassinate the minister?"

"Well… no. He didn't tell me exactly _where_… you know, which window he'd be shooting from… but he said it'd from a luxury hotel."

Light gave a soft, derisive chuckle. "Fool. There's only one hotel by the place where the speech will be given, only one possible hotel he can be shooting from. Unless…" His voice faded and became nothing. _Unless he know this fat bastard is a traitor and therefor told him something that… that would lead me on a wrong track? Can this whole assassination-thing be a set up? A diversion? _That was a definite possibility. But it was nothing to worry about. He would put extra security in the hotel, and have them keep an eye open for William Aballini. But what if Aballini disguised himself? Was he even smart enough to think that far ahead? Nonsense, it did not take a lot of brains to figure out that Kira knew his face by now, after that fiasco at the government buildings. But surely then any ordinary person would think that if Kira knew his face, he must be dead by now. Would Aballini consider the possibility that his face was already known? No, he would _not_! He did not have the intelligence to think as far ahead as Kira himself. He would come undisguised, of course, being the fool that he was. Then he would tell the hotel staff to keep an eye out for him and then alert Kira if they saw him. Simple.

And even if he _did_ come in disguise and got the prime minister shut, Light had the whole hotel surrounded, so there was no way he could escape. Light smiled.

But suddenly his happiness vanished and he turned around, staring Traitor down with horrible and yet amazing power.

"Now get out of my sight, you dirty rat," he barked.

Light could see the wet face growing paler as the man once again flinched and quickly got up. Despicable. "G-g-goodnight, Lord."

He left the room. The door closed with a little thud.

Light picked up his triumphing grimace form where he had hit it. Farewell… William Aballini.

**P**eople of all kinds crowded the great place in the middle of Tokyo. They chatted about what-not, smalltalk evolving into deafening noise. There must have been over ten thousand. Tall, modern skyscrapers around the crowd like great walls, their glassy eyes watching over every single one of the people in the place. Even Will.

He examined the rifle for faults one last time, even though he knew there was none. He was nervous. Heck, who would _not_ be nervous in his situation? Yeah, sure, he had killed people before. It had been hard the first few times. Especially if you hid an artery and blood flew everywhere. Showered you. That had had him cry in the late hours of the night. But of course it had gotten easier. Things always got easier. But still… he had never assassinated anyone before, that had been George's job. He had been in the army, after all. But George was gone, so now Will was the one with the most experience in guns and… well, he did not really have a choice. It had to be done. The bastard had to die. But… if anything went wrong… there was just so much to loose.

There really was no great plan in all of their actions. It was just to keep attention off of A at Kira's palace, and then to get the people over on their side. If they did that, A had said, if they got the people, they had as good as won. So… the reason the minister had to die, was that he had personally been in charge of the seizing and torture of several of the resistance troops a few months ago. His spies had luckily been revealed, so no one else had been captured. This was the revenge. He had to pay for what he had done. Pay with his life. Really, was that not what Kira believed, too? That when people did something wrong, they had to be punished by execution? Then… was this not evil? But A… A had said, that they should liquidate people like the prime minister when they did something like this. And A… A was always right.

Will thoughts stopped dead as the prime minister walked onto the stage. His white suit already had big, wet spots under his arms, he constantly patted his face with his handkerchief, his suit having a hard time containing his enormous body. He greeted the audience who cheered wildly for him and, panting, started his speech.

Will took a deep breath, putting a silencer on the rifle and sticking it out the open window of the tall building. It was a hotel room, very stylish with marble thingies and silk and roomy, comfortable armchairs. The room was a mess, though. Boxes looking like expensive suitcases full of ammunition and extra rifles, silencers. The rifle he used now was taken out of a case shaped like a guitar box, no one would ever figure what it really was.

It had taken a lot of money to have checked in on this hotel. He had disguised himself as a rich American kid, infant prodigy, who came here on a business trip. He still wore the expensive suit and the hat of course, a new, black men's hat, same design as his old one, matching the black suit.

In the room there was almost completely silent. Two more people, a man and a woman, dressed like bodyguards, sat behind him. They were with him in case something should go wrong and just to make his role as a American rich-kid more believable. There was no need to talk. They must be ready to flee when he had shut.

He aimed calmly and slowly for the chest of the man, who was yelling energetically into his microphone about the new world. Will closed his left eye to have as good an aim as possible, his finger tightening around the tricker… this was it…

Someone kicked the door open. Taken by surprise he forgot the tricker and turned his head, to see a man in a blue police battle uniform, with helmet, shield and everything. He was flanked by two more, and at least another twenty were visible out in the hall.

Will reacted instantly and quickly, dropping the rifle, his hand shooting to his shoulder case, closing around the Browning… But the police officer was not stupid, he had foreseen what Will would do. The minute he had entered he, and his comrades, had pulled their own guns and fired it twice each.

Will screamed as bullets smacked into both his right and left shoulder, he could not move his arms to pull the gun, falling backwards, unable to defend himself. Blood showered the expensive furniture, his white shirt. The pain was overwhelming, he had never felt something like this before. His arms were on fire, a cold and yet horribly burning, white fire, slowly spreading to his chest and the rest of his body. Faintly he heard his two comrades being shut as well, whether fatal or not he was not sure, and the little thud as he slowly hid the floor.

One of the blue masks bent over him as darkness put it's lid over his eyes.

**R**yan took a big bite off his pizza, even though he was already full. It made his guilt somewhat bearable. His cheeks were burning icily with congealed tears, new ones still making their way down his skin. He could not stop. Just gazing expressionlessly out into nowhere he let them fall, for he had no means of stopping them.

Why did he do it? Why?! He dropped the slice of pizza, it landed greasily on the floor of his little apartment. He doubled up in the chair, burying his face his his porky arms. Tears sprouted form his eyes with new energy, soaking his long sleeved shirt, but he did not care. His face obscuring itself into horrible grief as he cried and whined.

He screamed and screamed but they were silent screams, roaring only inside himself. Not a single sound could cross his lips.

_Why_?

Someone rang his door bell. He ignored them, did not care, consumed in remorse. The bell rang again, more insistently this time, though. He still did not react. Leave, he thought.

"Mr. Ryan Hannigan?" He thought he knew that voice, that womans' voice, but he could not place it. "Mr. Ryan Hannigan, I've got flowers from the Divine Lord, Kira. He wants to sent you wishes of good health."

Ryan straightened his back. Kira? It would be rude not to open the door for the messenger, now that she was bringing flowers and all, especially when Kira had sent them. He got up, drew the tears off his face and got out into the hall. He opened the door.

A slim woman figure stood on the door step, holding a bouquet of flowers in her hands. But she did not smile at him like he had expected her to. Instead her eyes and face were expressing nothing but glowing hatred. He knew her.

"You dirty rat," she said, barely more than a whisper, a whisper of a loathing snake. Will knew that everything was gravely wrong, but he could not move. Because in the very instant everything screamed at him to smack the door shut, a man stepped onto his door mat. Will knew him, too. He was a freedom fighter. They both were.

The man held a loaded gun in his hand, face twisted with anger. He had been hiding next to the door, invisible to whoever would open it until he stepped forward.

"I'll see you in Hell, Ryan," he spat as he fired the gun. The world exploded in white.

**Author's Note:** I really hoped you all enjoyed this chapter. Sorry it came up here so late (so _relatively_ late), but I have really had trouble writing it. Just wasn't inspired, you know? Anyway, here it is, and I hope you liked it.

Plus, I would really like a review or two this time. None for the last chapter. I know nothing was going on, and it wasn't all that exciting. Regarding that Yasu-part, I just felt like writing it. For some reason the teacher came out as Mikami inside my head. Chapter 8 you may call a filler, if you please.

Or, perhaps, the reason you didn't review was that you simply thought the chapter was bad and didn't wanna tell me. That's okay, but I wanna hear if you find it bad or boring – as long as your criticism is constructive of course, something I can work on.

I know, I've just gotten too used to you guys reviewing – you spoil me :D. But that's okay, I like spoiling. But please review!


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own "Death Note".

**Author's Note: **Thanks for reviewing! It's so very much appreciated, keep it up – even if you just write "good chap" or "bad chap" it'll still make me smile (probably not that last example, "bad chap", but you get the point). Of course longer reviews stating what exactly you liked and/or didn't like are even more well received. But really, like many other people in here, it's good enough to know if you guys are reading my story.

I thank you for the loyal compliments, faithful readers, enjoy this chapter – I've been looking very much forward to writing it, especially this first part.

**B**lood showered the white wall of the cell. Ran in little, greasy orbs downwards until they hid the floor, painting uneven lines of red behind them.

He coughed again. For some reason even more blood came up, running down his chin and then dripping quietly onto his white shirt. His face was hidden behind a coat of congealed blood, his breathing strained and somewhat whistling, but slow, as though every single breath he drew caused his world to collapse in pain. His shoulders were dressed clumsily in soiled bandages, once white, but now they were brown with blood. Their only purpose had been to stop the bleeding, so that he did not die before Kira was done with him. It felt like pain was banging it's burning hammers against his shoulders, but the pain was in a strange way absent from his body, as though he was watching himself form outside his earthly shell, he knew that it hurt, but he did not recognize the pain, even though he knew it belonged to him.

His hands were trembling either with fear or in a silent seizure, they were tied behind his back to the old chair he sat on. His clothes were torn and ragged, gashes and burns on his pale legs, on his hands and arms, even in his face which was covered by his dirty, black hair. His eyes, blue, were staring blankly downwards, watching his own blood hit the floor.

"_Now get the hell outta here, you stupid kid!" The man, who I know is not my dad, throws his empty bear bottle after me, I, who am not his son, once again. I dodge it, not that it is hard, I have done it many times before, and when the false dad is drunk it is very easy. _

_Mum is sobbing quietly in her corner. She is bleeding, but she does not dry the blood off her face. She is just stopping her fingers into her ears while she is sobbing, shaking her head and muttering to people I cannot see. I wonder… does she have an invisible friend? If she does, he is not a good friend. She is telling him to be quiet and to go away. He must be bullying her, because her words are fading slowly away. She is scared of her invisible friend. Now she is just crying, swaying back and forth while shaking her head more and more. I do not like it when she cry. But she does that a lot. When she does it, __**I **__feel like crying, but I know I cannot cry, because then she will be even more sad. I do not want her to be sad. So I do not cry._

"_I told ya to get outta here!" the man screams. His breath stinks. I hate him._

"_No!" I yell back at the stupid man. "You're not my dad, you can't tell me what to do!"_

"_Oh yeah, punk?" __His face is growing red. I know I should not have said it. Now Mum will be even more sad. I have made Mum sad. _

_His hand is shooting through the air. It stinks of sweat and bear and vomit…_

He could see it coming closer, but he did not react…

_It hits me in the face, on my nose, and it hurts so much… _

The pain was throbbing and he knew the pain, it was too very familiar_… _

_I can hear my nose breaking, it scares me, the breaking noise, it sounds like when you break a stick…_

blood was flying_… _

… _everywhere. Oh, how it is hurting me. I am whining as I am hitting the dirty carpet on the floor… _

They were so cold against his cheek, the tiles, he could taste the blood one his lips, when he was trying to breath he drank it…

_Mum screams with all her heart, and I know it is my fault that she is screaming, because I was hit by him, she does not like that._

_I too… _screamed.

**L**ight frowned. Aballini must have gotten mad. There was blood all over the cell, on the walls, on the floor. It would take many hours to clean it up. He was just lying there, in the peal of his his own blood, perhaps unconscious. Light remembered with disgust how he had screamed before. Screamed with so much despair and regret that Light's only conclusion was that he had gotten mad.

The man with arms of a bodybuilder drew the blood of his fingers off in his blue inform, bowed down and raised the chair up once again. The young man just hung there, not moving.

The muscle man now grabbed the fag end of his cigarette, still glowing, from an ash tray. He lifted it up, grinning evilly. Raised Aballini's chin and pushed the black hairs away from his face.

Yes, he did appear to be unconscious. Light thoughtfully supported his chin in his hand as he leaned back into the chair, his throne. Muscle opened the prisoner's one eye a little. Light saw it all through the screen and the cameras. Muscle slowly taking the fag end closer and closer to the white eye ball…

"Stop," Light said, pressing the little button which turned on the speakers in the cell. Like those L had used when Light was confined. He snorted triumphantly at the memory. Confined.

Muscle froze, a little disappointment on his ugly face.

"It'll be impossible to get anymore out of him today. Release him and send in a doctor to stop the bleedings." Light released the button and watched, still thoughtful. He smiled briefly.

William was just like the rest of them. In the beginning, when they woke him up him in the cell with some icy water, he had been going on about where his comrades were and how about there condition? Of course Light did not tell him anything. Why bother? The idiot had said that he would reveal to Kira everything if his two accomplishes were released. Yeah, right. They both new that was a lie.

Everyone ended up cracking. Everyone. All of them. No exceptions. Of course he had not gotten anything out of that George Clemens character, but… That was insignificant, he had not even started the real convincing-him-to-speak yet. Clemens had had to die, because he was a threat to the perfect world. Light would have cracked him if he had only tried.

So, he had finally gotten Aballini. Light watched the screen expressionlessly as the doctor entered.

Everything would appear to be finished by now. That whole resistance-thing. He should be celebrating. It was not quite over, though, until Aballini was dead. But even then… Light knew there was more to it. That insider… He was almost sure there was one. That would be the last brick in the puzzle. It would explain how Clemens had gone about the guards. It was the only way. And it got worse. That insider knew about the Death Note, that was for sure. Which made him even more dangerous. There were three ways of him to know about the notebooks: That Mikami had betrayed Light, another Shinigami in the Human Realm or… a new L. Like he had been thinking for what seemed a lifetime ago. It seemed to be the most likely possibility of those three. Was it possible for anyone to escape Whammy's? Yes, it was, now that he thought of it. What an idiot he had been. Not to search for any survivors! Foolishly arrogant! So now, it turned out, he was dealing with someone from Whammy's, a detective. Someone almost as smart as himself. Maybe even just as smart, even though it seemed very unlikely. But that meant that that detective knew how to get about his traps and avoid him. It was someone he was with everyday, but who? Who? Who could possibly be smart enough to pull such a thing off?

Perhaps… Adéle Segan?

**Author's Note: **Hope you enjoyed. And that the thing with Will being "narrator" – I hope it wasn't to unclear what actually happened. If so, just tell me. By reviewing. Remember to review! I wanna hear what you think of my work :D.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

**Disclaimer:** I do not own "Death Note".

**Author's Note: **Okay, as usual: Enjoy, enjoy, and thank you for the positive comments on the last chapter. And, by the way, I just found out that there already _is_ an "A" at Whammy's – mind that this story is based on the anime, not the manga, so whatever thing you got to know from there and not the anime, will not be in here. And sorry to anyone who saw this little hole in my story.

And sorry again. Because the quick and clever reader will perhaps have noticed that I have removed Mikami from the list of maincharacters in this fic. I just realized he haven't gotten enough great moments to be a something like that. So – sorry to all the Mikami-fans, myself included, I did not do this intentionally. And, if I have not mentioned this before, there will _not_ and_ never_ be a relationship of romance between Light and Mikami. Sorry to people who thought so. I just thought I'd mention it.

**R**eally? Adéle Segan? He watched her quietly from the corner of his eyes, her silhouette in the dark room. She had just entered, only just seen the screen. Her face had slight rinkel between the brows, a look of both disgust and fright on her pretty eyes.

That naive girl, blinded by him and the perfect world, enchanted in a foolish, childish love with him? Could she be the insider – a traitor? No. Impossible. She was… or was she? If indeed she was from Whammy's House, then she, like L, must be good in acting, in shielding her feelings form the world and place whatever mask that fitted the situation. But how could he be sure? How could he proof to himself she was a traitor? He needed her – maybe not now, but she was his safety net if Mikami died. How could he possibly be sure if she was the insider? Normally he would have just disposed of her at the least cause of suspicion, but here… here he could not do that, he could risk throwing away a faithful servant hwo could take over for Mikami. He would have to reveal her somehow… surely, if she was form Whammy's, she would do somehting when seeing Aballini being tortured. Or would she? Would she have that much self control, not letting her feelings getting spotted? He must perform a test on her. Maybe… maybe he should have her kill Aballini? If he was her accomplish, then _surely_ she would show _some_ signs by killing him. She was, after all, nothing but a mere human.

**S**he felt his eyes upon her, and yet she did not know they were there. He did not matter to her. He was unimportant.

What had she done? Her hands shook, not fysically, but they shook in silence and invisibility as she watched. His body… it was recked and destroyed, his eyes empty and glassy, unseeing, and yet he was still alive and she knew it, but what a life was it not, the one he lived? Empty. Only pain and despair must he be feeling. It was as though he watched her through the screen, as though their eyes met through the camera. She could not bear it, it was too much… the raven hair, sticky and stiff with blood, and those eyes, those blue eyes. They were begging her. She knew it. Begging her to help him…

She closed her eyes, getting a grip on herself. No. She could not. He was beyond her help now that he was captured. She would have them all killed if she helped him, the plan would be ruined. So her mask stayed. The mask of a scared girl stayed where it was, and she did not move or could not move it. It was unimportant. You fool! Imbicil! How could she have snapped like that? How could she have shown her feelings? How? She had put everything at risk by feeling. She must not do it again. _Nothing_ was more important than the plan. Than defeating Kira. She must win.

William was stupid anyway. A stupid boy who had gotten himself caught. How could he not have been more careful? It was _his_ fault the plan had almost been ruined. No her's. What was she saying, _of course_ not her's. She could not make mistakes, it was his fault. She did not care about him anymore. He had failed, he was weak, she could do no more for him. Not that she wanted to. He was beneath her dignity now. He had given up all her help when he had gotten caught. Stupid boy. Irrational boy. Sentimental.

A opened her eyes and turned all her attention to Kira. To Light. Behind her costume and her mask of stone she felt a painful jolt in the stomach. His eyes. There were something about those eyes. Those eyes behind the soft, perfect, caramel hair. They gleamed red, it seemed, just for a second. How odd…

Then she realized it. He had finally opened his eyes. He had finally gotten it. He knew there was an insider. And he suspected _her_.

Curse that Aballini! Curse him to Hell! But was it really his… yes, do not be stupid, of course it was his fault!

Light smiled. "Hello, Adéle. I'm glad you could make it."

"Of course, Light. I'm only glad to be of service to you."

He chuckled. "Do you see this man here?" He gestured to the cribbled person on the plank bed in the little cell. She felt her insides twist painfully. No! Pull yourself together!

"Yes, I see him. Isn't it…?"

"Yeah, it's William Aballini. We captured just a few hours ago. The idiot refuses to say anything. Playing noble. I hate those people, thinking they're matyrs."

"Yes, Light, I agree. There are no such things as unselfish deeds in the world. Martyrs delude themselfes by thinking so. Martyrs exist only to justify a single cause, such as blowing up innocent people because they're different form themselves."

"I think you're exactly right about that, Adéle. We're not so different, you and I."

Oh no! Damn him! It was a test. He was testing how smart she was. How much she was like… like the others. "Why, Light, you flatter me. I could never compare myself to… God." She giggled. How much she was like L.

He merely smiled and turned his attention to the screen again.

A did not have any time to think, for in that very instant the door was knocked on. Light frowned, annoyed, and waved his hand at one of the guards by the door. The guard opened it.

A woman stood there, looking absolutely terrified, her hands shook as she knelt before Light's back.

"L-lord," she stuttered. Her very hair, mousy brown, and her blue uniform shook with her body.

"Yes?" Light's voice was gentle and with that the most intimidating thing A had ever heard.

"My a-apologies for interrupting you, Lord. We just got the news. Ryan Hannigan has been found dead in his apartment. It would appear that he was shut three times in the forehead. We believe he has been liquidated by the resistance fighters. Even though he also appear to have been part of it."

Silence.

Ryan? Ryan Hannigan! He had been liquidated, she said… yes, it all made sense. He was a traitor, a rat, who had told Light about the mission today. Yes… he had gotten what he deserved then. _She_ had never trusted him, but they had needed his abilities as a hacker, now that A herself was not around, and William had said he was okay. Even more to blame on that oaf. It was all his fault! Blind, he was, controlled by _emotion_. Oh, how she hated that word. Now what she supposed to do? Kira suspected her… The obvious thing would be to stop the plan and to keep low… but would that not seem even more suspicious? That the resistance fighters and the insider stopped acting when she was suspected. Yes. She must continue. And even more, she must move to the next fase in the plan. She had promised to at the very least have Mikami killed and to destroy the notebooks. She had promised… promised _him_. William. Well, no, she had not, she had merely said that she would do it. She had not comitted herself to anything. Because she was not that stupid.

**P**ain. Pain was all he felt, all he could feel. His entire body was throbbing, he could not move, if he tried, everyhting would explode and he would scream again. Yes, he remembered that he had screamed. Faintly. However, whether or not it was a dream he could not tell. It did not seem to matter.

Never in his life had he felt such agony. He drifted in and out of conciousness. Right now he was awake. But he longed after the warm darkness where he could not feel anything. He just wanted to feel nothing. Nothing. No pain, no hunger, no despair, no nothing. Nothing. It sounded good.

He foggily remebered the doctor coming in. He had stopped the bleedings. His face was unclear, Will did not remember it, but his hands, his gentle, warm hands were very sharply drawn in his memory. They made the pain fade, just for a second.

He also remembered when his nose was broken. How old had he been? Ten.. twelve… forty… he did not know. He was not sure who had broken it, the muscle man or his step father. That did not matter either.

He just wanted to be free. To be at peace. To sleep quietly, not having to have a pistol under his pillow every night, on the table as he ate, next to him in the bathtub. He wanted to take his Baby Browning, throw it far away and forget about it. He wanted that so bad.

That was when he remembered. A little, ratling sound, a lifetime ago. The ratling sound was from a jewel… a bracelet. A had given it to him. He smiled when he pictured her face. She had given him the bracelet. And there was a pill in the biggest bead of the bracelet. If you ate the pill, you were free.

He felt happy, just for short moment, forgetting the pain. He could be free. His eyes rolled, slowly, to the right and he saw it – it was still there, little and anonimous on his bloody wrist. It was whole. They had not bothered taking it away from him. It was just as bracelet. No. It was more. It was freedom.

But he knew he must not be spotted when he crushed the bead. He must not let them know what he was attempting. They would interfere and prevent it. He lifted the hand with the bracelet on it, and pain shut through his entire arm. He gasped, his mind blackened along with his eyes. The other hand was gripping the first wrist in desperation. It seemed real, he thought. It must do. It was real, after all.

His finger nails sunk into the two small markings on the bead, like A had told him to. He felt the congelaed blood peal form his fingers. They pressed, the pain was overwhelming… but it broke. And he felt somehting small fall onto his wrist. It was cool and cylindrical. Happiness was like a great bobble in his throat, the pain was not worth giving attention. As quickly as he could with his recked body he grapped the pill, he lifted it, he was near throwing it into his mouth…

Pain again. Ubelieveable, it was. He gasped, dropped the pill and clutched his left hand with despair and in tears. They ran down his cheeks and burned in the gashes.

He had failed.

**N**ow Light giggled. And smiled. He watched Aballini clucthing his hand, that which had been holding the poisonous pill, he watched the blood that ran from the gunshot in the palm. That fool. He really thought he could escpae that easily. Poision pill. So barbarian and so… old school.

He leaned forwards and pressed the button of the speakers. "Good job, officer."

A man in a blue police uniform, a cap and a gun knelt before the cameras, telling him thank you, and that it was nothing, Lord. Light had put a police officer there just in case. The man had reflexes so fast a normal human could only dream of them. He was ordered to shoot, but not fatally of course, if Aballini did anything odd.

"Now, now, William," Light continued softly. "That won't do. You need to behave if you don't want to get tied up again." The young man flinched at the sound of his voice, shedding tears he probably did not know were there. Light grinned triumphantly inside.

"Would you tie him back up, please? If he has enough strength to attempt something like this, then maybe we should continue where we left off." Muscle grinned, grabbing Aballini and mercilessly tying to the old chair again. Then the he got his fag end.

"Before you start," Light said, "I have a little message for mr. Aballini. I'm sure you'll be glad to hear, _William_, that the man whose fault it is that you're in here, was murdered a few hours ago by your little friends. Ryan Hannigan, his name was. Does that ring a bell?"

Silence. But Aballini's face said a thousand words. It was dumbstruck, terrified and twisted with grief, being told that his best friend had betrayed him. Light smiled quietly.

But then a shadow fell over the slim face of the prisoner. A shadow of wrath and yet triumph, an expression of victory.

"You're… lying," Will said, and, with his last powers, he smiled. "You're a… liar… Kira. And even if… you're not… then it… doesn't… matter. What difference does it… make… if I die? None. You'll fall. No matter… what. I have faith… in it. I know it. You can never… win."

Light's tieeth gritted with anger. Why, that insolent, little… He pressed the button.

"You may begin," he said.

A's mask broke for a short moment. He had faith in it. He had faith in her. Her eyes were burning. She bit her lip not to show any more emotion. Why did have to say that? Damn you, William…

William Aballini screamed.

**Author's Note: **Remember to review! Come on… I know you wanna.

And, the English dictionary on here (or just on this computer - my old one's broken, so I'm using a new one) seem to be out of order. So forgive my misspelling, I usually correct that with the dictionary. I've done it as well as I could by myself.


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

**Author's Note: **Thanks for your tremendous reviews. I'm so glad that people read my stuff, it really is heart warming. Hope you enjoy the chapter. And yes, cyanide _is_ old school, and that is why it is so "A-ish". I hope you understand. And, just so there's no doubt, Light is not sure whether or not Adéle is a traitor, he merely suspects her. But that's just as bad as having him actually knowing you're a traitor, right?

**M**ikami always ate his meals behind God. This was dinner. They were having roasted duck. The room was lit dimly and cosily by an orange lamp in the ceiling, the long table, made of oak, were standing in the middle of the Lord's dining room. Beautiful paintings made by long since forgotten artists decorated the walls, colorful, and yet absent. It was cold, the Lord's eyes were closed as if he was concentrating on something important, and his face was quite calm.

Mikami's grip on his notepad tightened. The grip on the pen. The grip on his weapons. His eyes were on God. Or, rather, drifting from God to Adéle Segan and back again. She stood next to him, behind God's chair, but on the left side, Mikami himself was on the right. Her eyes were on the detailed marble floor. She, too, was concentrating on something. Their faces looked so much alike. Separated by the back of the chair, only about a meter and a half, but it could have been thousands and thousands of miles of ice. And yet they looked like to different halfs of the same body.

She was not worthy to look like God. She was just a mere human, dragging his name through mud and dirt by impersonating him like that. He did not like her. Her face shone with a kind of noble, yet assumed arrogance. As if he was a queen. She looked like she ran everything, like she was supreme, like _she_ was God. His eyes narrowed in a loathing way for a short moment, but nothing else.

God put down his fork and knife, drank a little of his water. Even though it was eight o'clock in the evening, his suit was perfect, his hair was perfect, his whole appearance as perfect as possible. Mikami corrected his glasses, tightened his own tie and was embarrassingly knowing how his hair must look compared to God's. No. He must not compare himself God. He was a mere human. And so was _she_.

Suddenly God stood up. His face was calm, in fact a little, pleasant smile made his face even more divine, and he took a deep breath before talking.

"You, by the doors," the bodyguards flinched and knelt as he spoke to them, "get out." They left.

The doors closed with a thud. Silence. God corrected his perfect tie.

"I have some important information I want to share with you," he then said. Mikami straightened his back and watched God carefully, while Adéle Segan merely lifted her gaze to look at him. Mikami's eyes narrowed again.

"Let me get straight to the point. You both know that the people has been acting all out because we captured Aballini. They're being blinded by the propaganda of this terrorist cell." He sighed and his shoulders seemed to hang sadly. "I'll have to make things straight. Set the people back on the right track. But first, I have to execute William Aballini."

He gestured despairingly. "It's really sad. He won't say anything, I could have spared his life if he would only cooperate. But that's too late now. I really tried. But that's not to be changed now. He'll be executed this Friday. Mikami?"

Mikami straightened his back even more and listened carefully. "Yes, God?"

"I want you to announce to the people that this Friday they'll be free from going to work. And free to come and see the execution."

"Yes, God." Mikami made a few notes on his pad, not the pages of the Death Note.

"And now…" God sighed, his shoulders lowered even more and his slim hands grabbed the table as if he was seeking support. "Now I'll need you both to listen carefully."

Adéle Segan did not change her face expression, in fact she was looking dreamy to Mikami. She sickened him.

"I have told _you_, Mikami, before, that I suspected an insider in this palace. The goal of this insider is to have both Mikami, myself and maybe you too, Adéle, killed. I do not know yet who it is, but I'm working on it." God sighed for the third time.

Mikami fell to his knees. "God! Tell me who you suspect! Let me help you!" His voice was shrill, but he did not notice, his hands raised themselves, pleading God's back.

"I'm sorry, Mikami, I can't do that. But the fact that I've told you both this means that I suspect neither of you."

"Yes, God." Mikami bowed his head. Of course God could not tell him, a mere servant. How stupid was it not of him to claim the right to be part of God's plans? Now he had made a fool of himself.

God straightened himself and corrected the perfect tie.

**H**is bed was soft and cool, comfortable to lay on. First Mikami had removed his tie, folded it neatly, then the jacket, the shirt, then the shoes and socks, the pants. Put on his pajamas – one button at a time. Then he brushed his teeth. Fifty brushes on each side. Cleaned his glasses. Three times. Took a glass of milk. He emptied it in ten sips, not letting a single drop run down the sparkling glass. Then he lay down, folding his hands on the blanket and closing both of his eyes at the exact same time.

That was what Mikami did every night before he went to bed. He did it in exactly fifteen minutes. Lay on the bed, not moving from his position in ten minutes, then he fell a sleep. Always had it been the same.

His room was next to God's in God's own, private part of the palace. This what not how it had started out, but since that time with George Clemens, God did not take any chances. That was why Adéle Segan slept in the other room on God's other side. So that she could come to him if he needed her. He had two buttons, connected to alarms in both of their rooms in case of emergencies. There were even doors right next to their beds so that they could be there only a few seconds after he had rung the bell.

But this night, something was different. Mikami had an odd, twisting, burning sensation in his stomach. Not in a good way. It was bad. It was uncomfortable. He resisted the urge to lay differently. No. It would pass, he was sure it would pass. But in a matter of minutes the symptoms got even worse. A lot worse. He caught himself whining, grabbing the stomach. What was happening? He tasted metal, like blood, on his tongue, it made him nauseas, he felt like throwing up… The pain was excruciating. He gasped and dug deep into his own belly with his finger nails. He could not control it. He curled up into a little ball and with a jolt bloody vomit came out of his mouth. It landed on the floor, all over the floor, like red and orange flowers. He could not stand looking at it, smelling the sour stench, it was filling his nostrils, he threw up again.

The pain. It was as if a white hot fire was burning his internal organs, made his heart pound painfully and so fast his lungs could not follow, he could not breath, he threw up again… What was happening? Blood all over his white sheets… white sheets… dirty. He felt disgusted with being in them, he wanted to jump out of bed and shower for a week. But the blood… and the pain… and the both sour and metallic taste on his tongue.

It was not normal, this. It was not food poisoning. It could not be. They had people testing all their food for such things, for poison, but he was sick and dying, he knew it… The pain was too much, he could not think. His entire body burned, he rolled and rolled on in his bloody sheets, he screamed with agony.

His hair was sticking to his for head, he had torn apart his own shirt in madness.

He could not have been poisoned. It was impossible. But… no, the milk. The milk he did not have anyone test, that milk was God's personal, tested for all kinds of poison by Adéle Segan herself… It was her! _She_ was the insider, she had poisoned him and God… but maybe God had not drunken his milk yet. He did not do it in the evening like Mikami. Mikami had to warn God.

People and bodyguards and doctors came running into the room with the sound if his screams. The took his pulls and his temperature, but he did not sense it. He must warn God… he must protect him…

The panicky words of all the people mixed up into something of a chaos, he did not notice it, could not hear it, it was just a mess of disturbing noises. Mikami rolled out of his bed. All the people gasped in disbelief as he hit the floor hard with a thud. Blood flew out of his moth and hit the floor, the pain, he was crying, even though he did not realize it, he must warn God, his eyes were blackening…

Mikami only had to drag himself a few centimeters over the floor, blood dripping form his lips, as the door to God's bedroom right in front of him opened.

God stood in the doorway. His face showed disbelief, it was frowning, Mikami could not blame God, he himself must look horrible… He raised his bloody, white hand towards God, as if pleading for help, his lips formed words with his very last powers:  
"God… Insider… Milk… poisoned…" He gulped blood, sank down onto the floor, his eyes rolling. God's face watched him, the soft hair as perfect as always, eyes expressionless and cool. Darkness put it's arms of oblivion around Mikami's mind.

"I'm… sorry… God."

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the "relatively" late update, I had to research poisons. None of the poisons which I found fitted exactly into this situation. So I changed the one I found a little. I hope you don't mind. Call it "artistic freedom". And this poison's Mercury Chloride as far as I remember. Here, in my story, Mikami drank it with his glass of milk, because Mercury Chloride can be made into white salt. And let's just say it can be dissolved into liquid when it comes into contact with water, like most salts. Beside the symptoms in the chapter, Mercury Chloride is also supposed to cause bloody diarrhea, but I thought I'd better leave that out not to make stuff too gross. I never payed attention I Science Class. And I apologies to any Mikami fans who're really depressed now. I feel kinda sad myself.

And remember the big, pretty, purple button with "Review" on it.


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

**Author's Note: **Hey there. Only one review this far, but I can't expect to have reviews every time, can I? Still, I'd like to know if you're reading this, so just type "good chap" or "bad chap" – and I'll be much more than satisfied.

Enjoy this chapter! I think, if my schedule isn't gonna slip, that after this chapter there'll only be one or two more left, maybe plus an Epilogue.

And many special thanks to falseMessiah for giving me some great ideas!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own "Death Note".

**T**he minute she entered Light's office followed by two officers who quickly disappeared, Adéle Segan fell to her knees and started sobbing noisily. Her face was swollen, one could see that she had cried a lot, and now she continued. Light just turned around and looked at her, a mask of disappointment turning his eyebrows into a sad little triangle.

"Adéle… what have you done?"

"Light! I'm so sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! It's all my fault! I made Hanson test the milk yesterday!"

"What do you mean? Who's Hanson?"

"Hanson is a doctor from Sweden… h-he started around a month ago, the day before the George Clemens-incident. And Light, I had him test the poison because I had to talk to you when mr. Mikami went to bed, I just did not have the time! He seemed so nice and loyal, I never thought he was a traitor. I was so stupid! Oh, Light, kill me, I don't deserve to live!" She hid her face in her hands and her sobbing became dramatically louder.

Light thought she acted like a soap opera actress, but nevertheless it seemed real enough. But was it? How could he know that this was not just an act? He could not. It was impossible for him to be sure. Should he just trust her and think that she actually told him the truth? No. Because Light did not trust anyone. He was not that stupid.

Oh, why did Mikami have to go and die _now_? Damn it! He needed more time to find the insider. And now he had to deal with tainted milk and crying women an terrorists all by himself! Damn that Mikami!

No… wait. Maybe this was not all bad. He could turn this to his own benefit. In fact it was probably the best thing that could have ever happened. A simple test, like he had planned, could tell him for sure if she was a traitor – he would have her kill Aballini, like he had thought about before. No mere human could kill someone they were close to without showing some sign.

**Police report**

_Tuesday, May 24__th__, 2016_

_By Detective Chao-Xiang Chang_

_Lord Kira ordered a search of the apartment of doctor Ove Hanson, 35, Swedish, suspected culprit behind the poison murder of Master Teru Mikami. Found at the scene were a certain amount of Mercury and Chloride, equipment to fuse those two and make the highly toxic Mercury Chloride used to murder Master Mikami, rubber gloves to avoid putting fingerprints along with a hand drawn schedule of Master Mikami's doings during the day. Also, doctor Hanson's DNA matches an eyelash found on Master Mikami's glass of tainted milk the day of the murder._

_Doctor Hanson denies his guilt and claims to be innocent. However, due to the large amount of evidence against him, Lord Kira has judged him guilty as charged and ordered his execution on Friday the 27th, 2016, along with his accomplish William Aballini, 23._

**W**ill was not afraid of it. His body ached when he breathed. His eyes were burning and swollen, his throat sore and dry. Truth was he longed it. He could barely blink, his face was a mask of congealed blood, his hair sticky and dirty. He could hardly breath. He longed it. If nothing else he would just lie down and feel nothing, hear nothing, see nothing.

He longed it. Death.

The masses were crying out like shrieking monkeys for Kira's judgement, they spat at Will and threw rocks and rotten vegetables at him. But he did not feel it. He had had his share of pain. He could not feel anymore. Could not loose any more blood. Could be hurt no deeper.

There was a man next to him at Kira's great place. They were both chained with cuffs on hands and feet, unable to move. The man was much older than Will. His hair was black and he wore glasses, and he too bore signs of being interrogated. He bore a white doctor's coat, once white, but now stained with red. His cheeks were red and swollen from tears, but now he was just staring emptily into the air. He looked mad to Will. Mad with sorrow. His lips were moving, but he did not say a thing.

Will did not know him. But he did not care. He supposed the man was some kind of traitor, who had defied Kira – but was it really important? They were both going to die. He did not care anymore.

Then Kira himself stepped onto his balcony. He greeted his people's cheers with an embracing gesture, his perfect face and brown hair and white tie looked bright and shining in the sunlight. It was late in May. Almost June.

Kira began speaking. Will could hear nothing but a swirling mass of foggy babble, his ears seemed to have stopped working. But he guessed it was probably the usual stuff about faith and loyalty and the consequences of treachery. It was always the same he talked about, but with different words every time. Just slightly different. The masses swallowed all his words raw. Or, that was, they used to. Because Will had noticed that fewer people had come to this execution, on bars in the dark parts of the city people talked about Kira's reign of terror and how they would soon not put up with it anymore. And Kira himself was just too stupid to realize that everyone were turning against him.

Will smiled dryly. Stupid Kira. He had no idea about how bad things were for him, no idea that he was going to loose… no idea about A. She was working against him, and eventually she would kill him like he had killed so many others. He smiled again, but this time form his very heart. A made all the pain and sadness vanish. Her smile lit up his world and warmed him.

Will looked up at Kira. That long, slim figure. That long, slim, harmless figure. Will knew that Kira did nothing himself, it was Mikami who carried out all the murders from behind. Well, he thought, at last. Bring it on, Kira. Let it come. At last – peace.

Next to him the man, who was probably a doctor, rattled and gasped, his hands pressed against his chest as if trying to remove something bog a painful. Then the doctor was dead.

Will longed death, he was jealous with the man because he had it quicker then himself, longed it's eternal rest and quiet. For he could not feel anymore. Not loose anymore blood. Be hurt no deeper.

Or so he thought.

It was not Mikami in the shadows just inside with the notebook in his hands. No one else would have noticed the silhouette just inside, if they had they would assume he was just a secretary, but Will could recognize that person anytime and anywhere. Mikami's hair was black, this hair was golden. Mikami wore glasses, this one just had incredible, stormy, gray eyes. Mikami was a man… this was a woman. Her pen wrote in the Death Note with such a noise he thought the whole world must hear it. He could hear what she wrote. _William Aballini._

If he could he would have screamed. His jar dropped as he stared at the person with the notebook and the pen, he felt tears running down his chin even though he thought he could shed no more of them. His insides were ripped from his body, his heart torn apart by cruel, pale hands, leaving nothing but emptiness behind. He had never ever felt this way in his life. Why did he deserve this pain? Why?

Why, Adéle?

"Why… Adéle?" His voice was nothing but a whisper.

Then something large stood on his chest. It broke whatever was left in there, stepped on the last blood and skin and flesh and bone he had left, blocked his throat so he could not breath at all. It hurt so bad. So bad he wished he was dead already. But it was nothing at all compared to the pain A had caused him. For never in his life had someone hurt him so badly.

He rattled, clutched his chest, his eyes rolled over and he fell backwards, landing on the place. But his mind kept looking at her, looked into her eyes, her heart, it looked and looked even when he was already dead.

Why, Adéle?

All that was left of William Aballini was his corpse and his face of grief and despair so deep that no one could bare to look at it.

**Author's Note: **I hope, as always, that you liked this chapter. I actually had it finished five days or so ago, but falseMessiah (God bless him) made me realize that there was a great hole in the story about how Adéle was going to talk her way out of this. So I had to fix it. But now it's here.

Also, if you don't mind, I'd like you to correct my grammar or spelling if you spot any i mistakes in my text. Just so I'll learn it. Thanks!

And remember to review - please? :)


	15. Oblivion

Chapter 14

**Oblivion**

_**D**__edicated to my readers_

**W**_ell, Light_, Ryuk thought as he lifted up his pen, _it's been fun._

**T**he crowd marched through Tokyo. Their signs and banners were colored orange with the dying shine of the sun.

"_To Hell With Kira_".

"_NO MORE MURDERS_".

They roared in their anger, carrying guns, frying pans, bats and whatever other weapons that were to be found in their homes. The roars echoed between the skyscrabers, the people too scared to take part in their march closed their windows, locked their doors and cowered in shadowy corners, awaiting whatever destiny they were to have. But more often than not, people opened doors and walked out to join their fellow citizens. At first their eyes were glassy and their gaze empty, but when they blended in with the crowd they became consumed with anger, and they roared like a chor of lions all together. The red light shone in their eyes, all colors, all shapes and all sizes, and it made them demonish to look at, as if flames were dancing right out of their very scull.

There must have been millions.

Freedom fighters were among the crowd of revolution, but for the most it was regular commoners who were just not going to put up with Kira anymore. They did not care for their own lifes, nor did they care for any lifes that stood in their way, all they cared for was revenge. The murder of William Aballini was the famous drop. The cup overfloaded.

They were marching towards Kira's palace, and they came closer by the second. Because the people had had enough.

**D**amn! Those idiots did not know what they did! Destroyed his perfect world. He could hear their yells through the thick, bullet proof glass of the doors to the balcony, see their ignorant signs and banners. "_NO MORE MURDERS"_. They thought him a murderer? He was justice! After all that he had given them out of the goodness of his heart, this was how they repayed him? Why, those…

"Please, Lord," a chief of the police said behind him, kneeling in full battle armor. "What are your orders?"

Light's teeth gritted, his nails dug deep into the flesh of his palms. "My orders?"

"Yes, Lord, with all due respect."

Silence.

He had no choice. This was all bad. First Mikami died and now this! He would need Eyes in the upcoming battle, who knew how many of his men would turn to the side of the rebellions, and how many _rebellions_ would get through to him? That Adéle woman, humbly and obediantly standing in the shadows. Quite calm and cool. As always, as when she executed Aballini. Could he trust her? Yes, it would seem like it, seem like Hanson really _had_ been the traitor. He had no choice but to trust her. Damn it! And he would have to dispose of her when all of this was over. To Hell with those fools. She was a perfectly good servant.

"Chief," he said and the policeman quickly looked up. "Assemble the army and kill all of the rebellions unless they agree to cooperate, which means to stop this _revolution_. Call all of my bodyguards and tell them to wait for me here. And also, prepare my bunker."

"Yes, Lord." The man bowed his head. He was in the middle of his fifties. "But, Lord, are you sure it's safe for you to…?"

"_Are you questioning my orders_?!" a spitting Light interrupted him.

The man flinched and starting sweating icily. "No, Lord, of course not!"

"Then do as I say!"

"Yes, Lord."

The police retreated from the room, leaving only Adéle Segan and Light.

"Adéle," Light said, sighing, "Please come with me."

**W**hen they had entered his office Light locked the door. Adéle just stood there, her hands shaking and her face grim with fear. Light grabbed a remote from his desk and pressed the button, so that all the blanks closed the red sun out. There was a hevay, grey darkness in his room until he lit the lamps in the ceiling.

"L-light?" she stuttered. "I-I do not understand…"

"It's the terrorists, Adéle," he said, putting the remote into his chest pocket. "They have deluded the people with propaganda. I've got no choice other than this. It pains me."

"Oh, Light! I'm so scared." She put her arms around her torso as if hugging herself, her entire body shaking.

His slim hand rested itself on her shoulder, while the other one lifted her pale chin. "Don't be, Adéle. I promise, I won't let anything happen to you."

She let herself fall into his embrace and be calmed by his beating hart and warm blood.

"Adéle, I'm sorry," he then said, pushing her gently away, "but we don't have much time. I need you to do something for me."

She looked at him, confused and a little disapointed, but nevertheless answered him. "Of course Light, anything."

"Very well," he said. "Ryuk!"

She looked around and saw the Shinigami in the shadows where it had been standing ever since they came in. It was not the first time A had seen it. When she saw it the first time, on Friday two days before, Adéle had screamed in terror until Light explained her everything, while A had forced herself not to think about what she was about to do, and coolly observe the situation.

"Yeah?" it replied lazily, swallowing the core of an apple.

"I need you to grant Adéle the Eyes."

The Shinigami chuckled wickedly. "Is that so? Well, that's fine by me. But what does she think about that?"

Light turned his head and looked at her, deeply and seriously. "You have to say: 'I want to make the deal'. Then you'll get the Shinigami Eyes. They allow you to see other people's name and lifespan, but you can't see the lifespan of those who owns a Death Note."

The monster laughed again, that hoarse, disgusting laughter, now talking directly to her. "You do know that it'll cut your life in half, getting the Shinigami Eyes, don't you?"

Adéle did not even blink. "Anything. Ryuk, I want to make the deal."

"Alright." It's eyes gleamed for a second. Then her vision was completely red, as if everything had just been soaked in blood. She gasped and blinked, she saw dancing letters spelling Light's name over his head. _Light Yagami_. The world was sort of blurry and confusing to look at, swirling, as if she saw everything through red water.

"Are you okay, Adéle?" he asked he seriously.

"Y-yes, Light, I'm fine."

"How many pages have you got left?"

She looked at him, puzzled at first, but them she answered him with a shaky voice. "One, I think."

"Very well." He walked over to his desk, steely and moderne, sat on the chair. She watched him.

Light pulled out the top drawer. Funny, really. He smiled inside. He had seen no reason to choose a different hidingplace – only make the old one better. His finger found a spot on the bottom of the drawer, invisible to anyone who did not know it was there, and pressed it. It accepted only his fingerprint and no other. Instead of a small hole, it was now a fingerprint scanner. If a wrong finger was pressed against the scanner, poison would sprout form it and kill in a matter of seconds. The drawer had a fake buttom, too. If someone tried to force open the buttom, then the same poison only would meet their fingers. And even if someone had acid to try and get through, the fake buttom and the rest of the drawer would not be destroyed. It was acid proof.

Silently the fake buttom slithered away and revealed the two notebooks. Both Rem's a Ryuk's.

Light took Ryuk's out. His favorite. After removing it he quickly slammed the drawer and the fake buttom shut. Everything was quiet.

Yes, he deifnitely would have to eliminate her after this, now that she had seen his hidingplace, and find himself a new servant who could be his Eyes. But right now he depended on Adéle to defend his life with her own. Would she do that? Of course. She loved him. Stupid girl.

Or did she? If she was the insider, then she certainly did not. But she was not the insider. She was a stupid girl. The goal of the insider was to kill him, Mikami and destroy the notebooks. In any case, she would not kill him until he had opened the drawer for her. And that would not happen. Of course, if she cut off one of his fingers and… No, that was just stupid. She was a simpel human woman, she did not have the guts to do something like that. No, Light was perfectly save.

He turned around and opened his mouth to tell Adéle to come and take the pages, but did not make it. Suddenly his mouth would not work. Something hard hit his temple and the world blew up in white. He did not even feel the pain.

**T**he world was hurting him. Especially his hand was pained. It was on fire, throbbing, and it was soaked in something warm and sticky. He felt as if his very life was escpaing him through the pain, like he had a hole in his body. His head ached. But it was nothing compared to the hand. He gasped.

Light opened his eyes, everything blurry at first, but when he had blinked he could focus. White moonlight made pain stab his head, briefly, like sparks, and he closed the eye closest to the obnoxious light. He felt weak and empty, someone had all of a sudden drained him of his energy. He felt cold. His hands were tied or cuffed behind his back to the chair he sat on, so were his feet.

A silhouette was standing by the window, gazing out onto the place, absentmindedly, two notebooks in her hand.

"Adéle!" he managed to gasp.

She looked at him, her eyes cold, her face expressionless.

"Adéle… What are you doing? How did you…?" Then he realized it. He cursed. Looked down his own body and saw that he was naked except for his underpants.

She said nothing. Walked to the windows of the office, where the blanks had been only a second ago, and stared at the masses, fighting Kira's army. But the masses were winning.

It was her! Of course it was, how could he not have seen it! Damn it! She was a bloody Whammy, the British accent, an orphan… it was her all along. She had helped Clemens and she had planted those things with the Swedish doctor. How could she have fooled him? No, he had not been fooled, he was God… but she had killed Aballini, that was his final test, how…? And how had she gotten to the notebooks? Oh, the pain, he could not think… Then he saw it. And it mad ehim sick. There it was, in a puddle of it's own blood, innocently lying on the floor. His thumb. He stared at it, speechless. But… how? She was just a simple woman, she did not have the guts…

Adéle was still staring through the glass, she did not even look at him as she lifted a small gun to his head.

"No, Adéle, wait, you can't do this…!" He felt his heart pound, genuine panic, how was he supposed to get out of this… On the wall, maybe a meter from him, a big, shiny button was. The emergency button. His bodyguards could be here within seconds…

"Oh, but I can," she said, her voice as cold and hateful as a thousand, pointy icetaps, but her face did still not show a single emotion.

He must keep the converstaion going.

"What did you do?" He tried to sound taken aback.

"What I did? Simple. I knocked you out with this pistol, then I took all your clothes including your wrist watch off you and tied you to the chair. I figured you must have a hidden piece of the notebook. And I cut off your thumb to open your little drawer, but I'm sure you have already noticed this."

"So… it was you all along? You who helped Clemens and killed Mikami?"

She did not answer.

"No, Adéle, you don't mean this… think of all we've been through! Our love… I love you, Adéle."

"Ha!" Not a single trace of amusement in her voice. "Lies. You have never loved me, nor have I ever loved you. You have never known me. All you have known is Adéle Segan, and she died years ago."

A's hand holding the pistol began shaking. She tightened her grib, but the hand was just out of control. The shaking spread to her arm and to her face, her mask was breaking, revealing her to the world…

"_Mommy, don't go! Mommy, stay with me!"_

The mask fell apart and hit the floor silently, but she heard it only too well. Her eyes widened, a vulcano that had been locked away in the deep, dark corners of her mind finally broke loose.

"_No, Mommy, NO!" _

Sounds escaped her lips as her very heart shook with all the sorrow and grief and anger she had refused to feel since she was a child.

"_Mommy!"_

"I HATE YOU!" A screamed, turned on the spot and lifted her pitsol, the one that Will had given her, tears sprouting from her eyes and her face twisted in mad rage and despair. "I hate you! It's all your fault!"

Light just stared at her, first taken aback, but then a wicked smile spread itself across his face. The auburn hair was messy, bloody at the temple, but still he stared at her with those cunning, evil eyes, red. He snorted and lowered his gaze. Then he giggled. Just once. And again. He sat there and giggled, shrilly and edigly to himself. Then he finally took a deep breath and lifted his head again. "Are you going to shoot me now?"

She did not reply, but tears still made a waterfall of her face, as she pointed the shaking gun to his head. The room was quiet.

"Shoot me?" His voice was low and gentle, the most dangerous one he had. "Do you really think that's the right thing to do?"

The tears in her eyes had drawn out, she looked at him without blinking.

"It is Kira who's maintaining order in this world. Without him everything would be chaos. He has stopped wars and crime and injustice – do you want to bring all that back? Kira is law. It's him who sets the agenda." Light's head tipped to one side, and he watched her gleefully. "Can you really shoot justice and live with yourself?"

It was night now. The sun was down, and the moon shone palely into the office. The rebellion was still going on, even more bloodily, outside.

"When I picked up that Death Note," Light said, letting his head drop down onto his chest, "I was scared at first. I thought I was a murderer. But then I realized… that this had to be done. It was the only hope that was left to stop the world from rotting even more. I had to do it. Even if I had to sacrifice my body and my soul to achieve it, I had to do it. I was the only one who could." He now lifted his head and looked her right in the eye, still with that read gleam in his stare. "You understand. I know you do. We're the same kind, you and I. Destined for greatness. Join me… and you shall be the goddes of the world!"

Silence. They looked at eachother.

Her voice was empty of all the rage and thirst for revenge it had had before. Now it was quiet and every word of it dripping with regret. "I am nothing like you, Kira. Not anymore. You are nothing but a madman. I shall never join you. I have done enough wrong.

You killed all of them, Light Yagami. Mello and Near, Misa Amane and Kiyomi Takada. And all those innocent children at the orphanage… and him. I came here for revenge and justice. To win. To defeat the Kira who beat Near, Mello and… L. To be victorious where they had failed. To prove that I was just as good as any of them, to prove myself to… L. Proove that I was better. But I am not. He must be ashamed of me.

I thought the goal always justify the means. But it never does. You made me into something that I resent. You made me like you. I may have won your game, Kira, but still I have lost everything."

She had murdered Will and that innocent doctor to win. Yes, win. She _had_ won. But what was the price? Was it worth it? She had won, but she had no one to celebrate with. No one who would welcome her with open arms and say that now everything was finally over. The end. She had lost the one person who could have done this. And for what? For Kira? She had murdered him with her own hands. Throwed him into the trashcan and burned his shell when she could not use him anymore.

Behind her the Shinigami chuckled. But she heard nothing of that.

_Well, Light,_ Ryuk thought as he lifted up his pen, unnoticed, _it's been fun._

Light did not say a sound. His eyes widened, his jar dropped, but that was it. His throat was tied into a knot, he could not breathe, his entire body stood still. His blood stopped floading, his liver, his stomach, everything stopped. He would have looked at Adéle Segan and he would have cursed her, but he could not move his head, not to mention speak. Suddenly it gave a jerk in his chest. A painful jerk, the pain was all he felt, as if an entire building had fallen onto his chest. He would have grabbed it like he had seen his victims do, but he could not move.

_Damn you… Adéle Segan…_

**I**t was dark, suddenly. Everything was dark. His mind was empty. His body weightless. He was floading in nothingness. He could not think, but he did not want to. Emptyness. Nothingness. Oblivion. Forever.

**A** put her hand on the cool glass of the window. She let her shoulders and her head sink, only supporting herself to the glass. She thought that she would cry. But she could not. The tears would not come. Her eyes were dry and empty. She watched her own feet in the high heels. High heels. Ha.

With two lazy moves she kicked them off, standing barefooded on the cool wooden floor. The coat. The doctor's coat. She removed that aswell, putting the pistol into the pocket of her knickers, threw her stetoscope away. Removing it, her hands grazed the silver necklase Kira had given her. She felt anger wash through her veins again, with a growl she tore it off, the diamonds flying everywhere, reflecting in the moonlight. Downstairs she could hear the noise of fighting, the rebellions had entered the palace. They would be here soon. The others. And she would look succesful to them. She had killed Kira, Mikami and she had both of the Death Notes. But she would not destroy them. Then she would loose her memory, and that could not happen. Then it could all just start over again. She tightened her grib on the notebooks.

Then she straightened her back. She must kill him. Revenge.

She turned her head and she knew that he was dead. She could see it on his glassy gaze, empty eyes. It was the Shinigami. It had killed him. It had killed him, and taken her revenge away. She hated it. She screamed. Or roared. She was not sure.

And then she shut. The bullet smacked into his forhead, blood showered everything, he and his chair hit the bloody floor. But he was still dead. She screamed again and again, fired again and again, as she cried and cried like she had never done before. Then there were no more bullets. But she kept pressing the tricker, clicking emptily, until she could not hold onto the gun anymore, her hand shook to much. She fell to her knees, she sobbed incontrollably towards the sky, tearing her own hair from her head in remorse.

"Forgive me, William!" she yelled to the empty ceiling, voice blurred with sobs. "Forgive me!"

THE END

**Author's Note:** Yep, this is where "Defining Justice" ends. I hope you enjoyed it. Especially this ending chapter (I named it and everything), I tried my best to make it a worthy ending. Thank you so much for reading, you're boosting me with self confidence. I would also like to thank all the people who have reviewed, it is you who have formed this stpry. And I would like very much if you would cast another one for this chapter, too – I'd like to see how my first fanfic turned out. Now I have some topics of the story that I'd like to give you my opinion on/information of (so this Author's Note is gonna be a long one):

The title: I had problems finding a title for the story, but then I figured that "Defining Justice" was a good one. It's probably Adéle who is the main character, Will's her helper and Light's her opponent, and the story is basically about her defining justice – and learning that the goal never justify the means.

A: Adéle Segan died years ago, as A said, and she was just a mask. A has surpressed her feelings ever since she became an orphan. I like to see her as a new Near, but without his noble mind. A would give anything to win, until she realized that that was exactly what she would. Well, you read the story. Sometimes it sounded like she had multiple personalities – when Adéle says something, A thinks something else. Complicated, huh? She's also admired L ever since she saw him the first time, so, if that was not clear, her original goal was revenge for him, until it became all about winning. I hope you like her even though she is an OC. Oh, and Will was in love with her, if that was not clear, either.

Light: Yes, Light died. He's my favoriote character of Death Note, along with Mikami. Sorry, but he had to, it was the only way for the story to end. In this fic, as you might have noticed, he's pictured as a psycopath, because I think it obvious that that is what he is. A psycopath. Psycopathy, for those of you who have forgotten, is not just insanity. It involves not thinking about anyone but yourself, being willing to sacrifice whatever and whoever is necessary to benefit you and only you. Psycopaths are not capable of putting themselves in other people's shoes, i.e. sense their feelings. Nor can they love, and they take advantage of anyone necessary – as said above. They can be very charming when they want to, and then suddenly turn around and be the scarriest thing you've ever seen. After having used people they dispose of them. Like Light.

Misa, Mello, Matt and Takada: I have been asked what happened to these characters before my fic, and here's the explanation: Mello, Matt and Takada all died the way they did in the series. Because basically, the only reason that things went wrong for Light was that Mikami made a move on his own. He didn't do this here, that's why everything went as planned. As for Misa, she has always annoyed me, so she was killed by Light shortly after he became "God."

If you have question that you find was not answered here, I'd be more than happy to answer them.

Just send me a Private Message or include it in your review.

I own nothing of "Death Note" (see the Disclaimer), but I'd like to say that I do own Adéle Segan ©, the title "Defining Justice" © and William Aballini ©, and if you want to use them I would appreciate if you asked me first :).Disclaimer: I own nothing of "Death Note", the manga or the anime – no characters, nor any lines. I have not made any money on this, it is simply a tribute to "Death Note". 


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